Charlie Foxtrot (IC, Any Tech, ATTN SR)

[New Dornalia]

When word came about through various channels that one of the portals of the primordials would be opening in the Republic an army of heavy equipment descended onto the portal’s predicted location. Around the clock the titanic machines ripped up the earth and moved it around into an intricate network of trenches and earthwork defenses. Once the heavy machinery was finished the engineering corps descended onto the predicted battlefield. Miles upon miles of razor wire was laid along with charges in the trenches should they be taken and countless mines across the vast open expanse. Tanks and other armored vehicles drove into the holes carved out for them, machine gun nests with overlapping arcs of fire and mountains of ammunition were set-up and mortar tubes were dispersed along the fifth line of trenches. FInally in the back countless artillery pieces were drug into position. Anything and everything the Republic soldiers could get their hands on were pressed into service and then the infantry arrived. Anything that could move high volumes of troops was conscripted into service immediately.Trains, buses, semi-trucks with cargo trailers, and even RVs were all used to move the numerous amounts of soldiers towards the staging ground.

Conscripts and green troops were placed in the front lines to be nothing more than cannon fodder while the more experienced veterans in the next tier of trenches would have more time to pick of whatever came out from the portal.

At sixteen years old Mathis had been barely old enough to be conscripted into the army. Given rudimentary training and rifle he was quickly thrown into the back of a cargo trailer and sent straight to the predicted conflict zone. He had been unfortunate enough to have an incompetent sergeant assigned to his unit. The man constantly stunk of cheap wine and foul smelling cigarette smoke. His mean streak was also feared by the troopers in Mathis’ unit as well. Once when one of the other privates had failed to answer a question quickly enough for the sergeant who hauled off and punched the man in the mouth and knocked out his front teeth.

“INTO THE TRENCH.” roared the sergeant as the arrived to their positions, Mathis barely dodged the man’s boot as he quickly jumped into the trench and peeked his head up over the edge and watched the open field. For several days they sat and waited, sleeping and eating in the earthen defense as they waited for whatever was going to happen. As each day passed the damnable sergeant seemed somehow get drunker and meaner while his soldiers pleas fell on deaf ears of the platoon’s lieutenant who seemed more worried with his own vanity than his troops well being.

On the morning of the sixth day rumours and news spread through the trenches about portals and other calamities that had befell other nations within the region and across the world even. Great monsters attacking from the sea, hordes of unspeakable horrors pouring out from portals, and several other disasters as well. Anxiety and fear swept through the trenches and men and women prayed to whatever gods would listen to their pleas.

And then the ripping tearing sound of the Material Realm being opened up to the hordes of the Primordial hosts could be heard.

Up and down the trench soldiers stood up and looked over the edge as the host came boiling through. They looked like misshapen canines covered in spines and larger than a horse. Tongues hanging from their moves they began their charge towards the trench line in huge loping gaits across the open expanse, some of them letting out baleful howls that sent a shiver of fear though Mathis’ spine. Explosions from the mines cut through their numbers as they continued their charge.

“FIX BAYONETS” came the cry and Mathis tried to quickly pull the long blade from it’s scabbard and attach to the end of his rifle. His efforts at trying to hurry awarded him a cut across his fingers that bled freely. Paying it no mind as much as possible Mathis finally got the blade attached and looked back over as the first of the creatures slammed into the razor wire. The great cutting barbs on the grabbed into flesh and hung on as those creatures that were hung tried to thrash themselves loose. Their efforts only snarled them up into the wire worse. Once enough bodies had become entangled the next wave of creatures simply crossed over the wire on the backs of their fallen comrades and headed towards the trenches.

“FUCKING FIRE YOU IDIOTS” screamed the sergeant and Mathis realized up and down the trenches other units had already begun shooting.

He pointed his rifle towards a creature and squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked and ejected the spent cartridge and loaded another round. Again he squeezed the trigger and another shot range out. He tried to aim as steady as he could but adrenaline and fear combined made his aim shaky and uncertain. Arcs of machinegun fire swept across the enemy’s ranks and several oud sickeing thuds could be heard as bullets tore into flesh and bone. Cannon fire from the tanks far behind could be faintly heard. Huge plumes of dirt exploding into the air showered hot scorching metal shrapnel through the creatures. Mathis thought for a second he could hear thunder approaching, but as ho looked towards the sky he realized it was still a clear day with barely a cloud in the sky. A hand grabbing his shirt collar yanked him down to the ground as the first artillery shells exploded onto the enemy. Their impacts deafening as entire groups of the hounds were simply erased from existence.

“Get back up.” said the owner of the voice who had drug him down. Mathis looked back over the edge and was disheartened to see the hounds still coming through the portal. Again he raised his rifle and fired into the oncoming host. Closer and closer they came to the trenches even under the continual salvo of artillery and mortar fire. Screams of men could be heard far to the right and Mathis turned to look at what happened. His skin turned pale white as he watched the first hound slip over the edge of the trenches.

Grenades sailed over his head into the overun trenches. Several explosions killed anything within them.

Turning back towards the host Mathis nearly fainted as he watched the great gaping mouth of one of the creatures descending towards him. Instinct took over and he raised his rifle to defend himself and the hound’s momentum and weight carried itself into Mathis’ bayonet, skewering the creature’s head on the blade.

Others in his trench were not so lucky. Mathis heard screams and the sound of bones crunching from under the great hound’s body. Gunfire and another explosion brought silence within the young soldier’s vicinity. Wiggling as best he could Mathis drug himself from out underneath the creature and quickly sntached a rifle up. His stomach turned as he realized they was still an arm with the sergeant’s marks on the blood spattered uniform grabbing onto the gun. A snarl snapped him out of his sickness and he turned as another creature head came over the trench. Firing blindly Mathis backed away from the creature and tried to turn and run certain he could feel the creature hot breath on his neck.

Scrambling out the opposite side Mathis took a quick glance and realized the entire first trenchline had been completely overrun. Men fired desperately or stabbed with bayonets as creature after creature poured into the trenches. Looking across the field towards the second trench Mathis began sprinting towards the line carefully trying to stay between the flags that marked the safe areas to walk. Reaching the razor wire he quickly hit the earth and began to belly crawl as he heard the long staccato bursts of machinegun fire begin sweeping across the field. Thinking they were trying to kill his cowardice Mathis closed his eyes and braced himself for the bullets he knew were going to tear his body apart. Explosion behind him made Mathis realize that it wasn’t him they shooting at but the creatures that were now emerging from the first trenchline. Crawling faster he quickly made his way under the razor wire and looked back.

He wished he hadn’t as the first of the creatures slammed into the razor wire line that pulled taunt in protest.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.” Mathis yelled as he turned and sprinted as hard as he could towards the safety of the second line. Huge explosions ripped through the first trenchline as the sappers detonated their hidden charges there. The shockwave from it knocking Mathis onto his face as he tumbled into the second line.

“Looks like you’re one of the few that made it son. Grab your rifle and get back on the line.” came a stern order from one of the sergeants. Nodding his head in shock Mathis got back onto his feet and looked over the edge and began firing again.

Cote d’Azure

The soldiers would be able to then see a massive thunderstorm, and then, what looked like a meteor coming from the heavens in the middle of the swarm of hounds. The meteor would scream faster and faster, and then land with a mighty blow in the middle of the swarm, sending a large number of them flying about.

They then would see the gribblies begin flying about some more, and the sudden, erupting sounds of gunfire from inside the Horde, along with random explosions, gusts of what looked like snowfall, and even the odd lightning storm from within the Horde.

Then, the soldiers would begin hearing loud, angry shouts to go along with all of this. Shouts delivered in a stern German accent softened by years in Northern California, accompanied by sounds of squishing and the roars of the monsters.

“FUCKING RASCALS! FUCKING BASTARDS! YOU DO NOT EAT THESE PEOPLE! NOT TODAY NOT ANYDAY NOT NOW!”

Before long, the shouts’ source would be revealed. A tall, blonde woman, wearing a blazing red uniform, with one eye green and one eye red. She wore little, if anything, in the way of personal protection. Not a helmet, and only a pistol on her belt and maybe a small pouch on the side of her belt. She could be seen letting out side kicks with great force and karate chops with even greater force. Whatever she was doing was causing a lot of damage, as gribblies were falling left and right. The woman even picked up one of them and used it as a club before tossing it into the air. As she did so, the woman seemed to emit sheer, unalloyed rage from her eyes, along with a feral scream.

Of course, alongside her were others in red uniforms with black gas masks and M1 Helmets, although they had rifles. These were Kalashnikov rifles with glowing blades sticking out the front, hacking and slashing and firing long controlled bursts out at the creatures--bursts which seemed to make them explode on contact. They could also be seen making gestures with their hands, tossing fireballs and gusts of wind and even hailstorms from their hands at the hounds. One hand with a rifle, the other hand casting.

As the group in front of them began cutting through the hordes with a swathe of intense fire and even more intense shouting, the angry woman seemed to come closer. However as she approached them, she held up her hands and waved a white handkerchief.

With a loud shout, she asked, “Are you all alright?!” As she did this, she let out a back kick, and punted a hound further back. As she said this, the sky would begin to show a lot more activity in the form of aircraft coming from the heavens.

[Sterkistan]

Second, we should coordinate Greater Prussian and Allanean military assistance and disaster relief to those countries most in need, and refugee evacuations from the nations most affected to the safest nations.

Third, we should work on ways to locate and destroy the so-called Pandora’s Box and end this disaster once and for all.

The Fleet-Master General has launched dropships, transports, troops, and supplies to assist with the relief effort and evacuation of civilians. However has stated that combating the enemy is their first priority in the conflict. And that they are currently searching for Asset Prime, and are willing to share the information they had available.

---

Geo-synchronous Orbit above Earth
"Fleet-master sir, we have a significant problem, Leviathan-class Reavers are approaching at a dangerous speed. We have 50 seconds before contact." The radar observer told him.
The F-M-G wasted no time on talk, activating the call for battle stations and to prepare for conflict.
"Get the defence cruisers running. Cover the planet as fast as you can." As he spoke, three cruisers moved along the planets surface. Taking up a triangle formation and facing outward over the south pole, activating the defense shields that began encompassing the globe. The sky glowing bright blue all around the Earth.

"20 seconds to contact. 10 seconds. Contact!"
He saw them, the ungodly beasts slowed from their FTL speeds, all of them at least 3 times larger than their cruisers. These beasts ate planets for breakfast, but they had plans to beat them now. "Light them up." Was the call that broke the silence.

In the dead silence of space, the cruisers guns flared to life, their shots passig through the one-way shield and bombarding the horrifying beasts as they continued on towards the Earth. The horde crawling over their dead bretheren as they approached.
"Activate contingency A-03." The General commanded, and the fleet obeyed, the EYU cruisers shot forward through the shield and at the horde as they ejected the hangars, armouries and living quarters. The video links showing their Bridge crew giving their final salutes before they were swallowed into the horde, and after a short delay, detonated all their planet nukes.

The carnage was ridiculous, bits of bodies and chunks of flesh bounced off the shield. The EYU cruisers were vaporised instantly as well as any Reavers nearby. The rest were killed by either the shockwave, or the burning purple fire as it encompassed everything.
"Keep the shields up. There could be more incoming."

[Allanea]

21.06.1941, Local Time

“Men! Tomorrow we will strike a mighty blow, defending our fatherland from Bolshevik Aggression! Mighty Communist armies are preparing on our border, ready to strike against the German Fatherland. However, what they do not know is that we are going to surprise them, and that we are going to land the first blow. We are going to burst into Bolshevik Russia from several angles.” - Halder’s face was pale as usual, his spectacles gleaming in the setting sun as he delivered speech. “Intelligence reveals that the Soviet Union has excellent motorways, and has prepared a vast military force. However, their force is underequipped and underprepared, and their army still unready to strike. Their state is the colossus with feet of clay, and it will be ground under the might of the Panzerwaffe! Men! I expect each and every one of you to do his duty tomorrow - and today, as a true son of Germany. Prepare your vehicles. Tomorrow we cross the border. Tomorrow is the day of our glory. Within three months we will be in Moscow!”

The men prepared their vehicles for one last time, and those who were religious gave prayers - some to the Virgin Mary, others to Christ himself. But on the whole, they did not know fear. They knew that they had already fought wars, and had already won, for their Reich, several great victories that would ring out over the generations. Tomorrow would be no different, they thought, as they cleaned their guns and their engined.

Near dawn, the fog condensed around the border, but the proud Aryan warriors did not care. This was a modern army, after all - they had compasses and were trained in navigation - all they needed to do is make it through this fog, and they would be able to drive East, to victory and glory.

The Army groups made their way across the border - near four million men, thousands of tanks and planes, dozens of warships. In places, they paddled across in boats, and elsewhere, they simply drove across. As the fog condensed around them, they laughed, and those few who felt fear, themselves ascribed it to the natural jitters a man feels before combat.

For even a short, victorious war - like the ones in Poland and France - is a dangerous affair. Even in a victorious war one may be killed, after all. Even in a two-week conflict an enemy anti-tank gun may penetrate one’s armor, or a villager with a hunting rifle may take one’s life. Sure, this time it was different, and they were permitted to take total, swift, and vicious revenge for each man so murdered - but what good would it do for you, as you lay on the black Russian soil, bleeding, that your comrades would take revenge? What good would the Fuhrer’s promise of a cut of Russian soil for each man or a Moscow apartment would do for you, if you were buried in the Chernozem? Would your parents be happy if they received that Moscow apartment after your death?

Into the fog they went, regardless.

22.06.1941, 06:00 Reich Calendar.
Summer ????, Allanean Old Russia

The roads were much better than they had expected, indeed much better than anything they’d seen before. In some places they had clearly been laid just very recently - enormous expanses of grey asphalt laid atop of layers of concrete panels, wide enough for the Panzergrenadier companies to plow East and East. Thin steel safety railing was built on each side, surprising even for a road in the Reich. There were, however, some problems.

“Herr Leutnant, we’re absolutely, definitely not in Poland.”

“Dummpkopf! Where do you think we are, then, you alberner Kerl?

“Sir, look at that road sign.” - Hans replied, pointing to the sign. It was unusual in design, in a strange, overly simplified font that the Colonel Lessing had never seem before, white Latin and Russian letters over a blue background. It said, very clearly, TETKINO - 3 KM.

“Tetkino? What?” - Lessing queried - “This doesn’t sound like a Polish name.”

“It doesn’t indeed, Herr Leutnant.” - the soldier said. “I’m suggesting we’re lost. We should perhaps halt and radio back.”

“That...” - Lessing pondered. “Stop the motorcycle, I’d like to look at the map-”

Suddenly, Leutnant Lessing body and head jerked suddenly, and he hung limp in the sidecar. Then - and only then, a barely perceptible fraction of a second later, did the sound of the gunshot arrive. Hans gasped in sudden terror, realising suddenly that there was a hole the size of a man’s fist in his lieutenant’s chest, and that he could see some thing - bones? Flesh? - inside Lessing, in a way you are never supposed to see into another person. But the terror ended quickly, as suddenly, without any way for Hans to realize what was happening, the entire upper half of his head was removed, and he tilted sideways and fell off his motorcycle. The vehicle bearing the remains of Leutnant Lessing sped forward, into the railing on the edge of the runway, and fell on its side.

Laying a full eight hundred meters downrange, Ilya Klyukov, a sniper with the Border Guards, did not need instructions. Armed men, in uniforms, had crossed the borders of the Russian Federation. In these times of war, where horrible monsters attacked from every edge of the country, he knew it was at least a blessing they were at least human. Even this - armed men, uniforms, crossing the border - would be enough for any soldier. These uniforms, however, triggered something primal in Sergeant Ilya Andreevich Klyukov.

Bam! - the enormous, high-caliber rifle punched him in the shoulder with its recoil. Eight hundred meters downrange, the engine of another sidecar cycle was brutally punched apart, and the rider was thrown aside, his lower body enveloped in flames. As the man twitched, his open mouth clearly visible in the scope as he screamed, and the sidecar tipped over, Klyukov made aim at yet another rider, and - BAM - the rifle slammed into his shoulder again.

He felt like the protagonist in some film or video game about the War. In his mind, of course, there was no need for the phrase, ‘the Second World War’, or even ‘the Great Patriotic War’. It was simply, the War, as if all other conflicts had been rendered irrelevant.

He pulled the trigger again, and another man’s head tilted horribly in his shoulders, and one of those German helmets that Ilya had seen in about a dozen TV shows rolled alone, bloodied, on the highway.

Several hours later, President Kuznetsov’s palace, near Sochi

Kuznetsov raised the glass of crystal-pure vodka from the table and consumed it in a single, lightning-swift motion. He had long stopped caring how much vodka he had consumed since morning. No doubt too much, but what did it matter? He knew that his life was already effectively over. He had committed several acts of treason, he knew - gradually selling his country, bit by bit, to that horrifying woman. No doubt the country benefitted - investments, improvements, the Allanean way of life. He was concerned still - not because of ethics, no, not because of any loyalty or honor. President Kuznetsov had sold his soul many years ago, and had not even remembered what being an honest man felt like.

But he knew, of course, that Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky had acquired power over the country, gradually turning the country into an Allanean dependency. Very soon, he knew, the country would become Allanean Russia in truth, in form and in law - not merely a protectorate, but a province. Then, of course, she would get rid of him. Even now his power over the country had almost vanished. She had allowed him - so far - to keep his money, though of course it wouldn’t be difficult for her to alter the bargain in the future. He had sold his whole life to that Dark Wizard for a handful of banknotes, and now it was only a matter of time until-

“Mr. President?” - the clerk appeared behind him almost without a sound. Or perhaps he was simply too drunk to notice.

“What is it, Nikita?”

“Sir, the... Fustercluck. There are news...”

“Why do I care? Let the Allaneans handle it.”

“Sir, the country is being invaded by Hitler’s Germany.”

“You.... have you also been drinking, Nikita?”

“No, sir, not even small glass.” - the man took a step back, as the President stared at him with bloodshot, angry eyes.

“Then chto za khuynya?”What is this cockery?” - RUS.

“We don’t know, Mr. President. Some kind of... fractal shift? What matters is that multiple Air Defense convoys detected, and Border Guards have engaged in fights with, several units of what appear to be uniformed Wehrmacht troops... probably passing here from some other continuity and-”

The President paled. He wanted to vomit, so unusual and intimidating was this experience. He knew that the man was not lying to him, just as the news about monsters, demons, and Old Things from beneath the waves had not been a lie. In that moment, he thought of his grandparents and parents. He thought of the stories he had been told as a child - that far off past when he stopped being honest - of his granfather, of his mother starving in the streets of Leningrad.

“Should I contact Her Imperial Majesty, Mr. President? Mr. President, are you all right?”

“You can, of course. Contact whoever you like.” - the President said, leaning on the back of his ornate, gold-decorated, baroque chair. “But, of course. You need to contact our own Aerospace Forces first. And the Defense Ministry.”

“Sir? What are your instructions?”

“Are you stupid Nikita? Fritzes are invading again. Do you need to be told what we are going to do to them?”

North of Kursk

Wofgang screamed. The blue, beautiful, sapphire-pure skies about him just turned into a burning, raging hell. There was no air fight, not clatter of flak cannon below - nothing, no warning - just a pair of loud, ear-shattering explosions, and two planes in his staffel suddenly, violently exploded. “What is happening?” - he screamed, twisting in the Ju-87 cockpit, trying to figure out what had happened, where the blow that had killed two of his friends had come from. There was nothing, nothing at all - just two long, white-grey trails from the horizon, like the trails of rockets. “What is happening?” - he shrieked - “Jens! Peter! Come in! Come in!” - he knew they wouldn’t come in, that-

There were two more explosions. He screamed, yanking on the yoke, trying to steer the Stuka in the direction from which the trails had come, but even as he straightened his plane in mid-air, there were two more. He turned in the cockpit, staring in horror - a unit of twelve planes had been reduced to six planes in mere second.

“What - how is that even -”

Four planes.

How? What?

It did not matter. Bashing his hands against the glass, Wolfgang threw open the cockpit. Even as the cold air beat painfully against his face, he leaped free, letting the plane fly forward without him. Overhead, more explosions blossomed.

For him, the air battle was over before he hit the ground. Overhead, he heard a howl, much different from the sound of any engine he knew, and as he stared into the skies, two light-grey trails of smoke crossed far, far overhead. Pulling these trails behind them were two tiny, far-off aircraft.

Two planes did this! How? How did they even spot them from that far off, much less aim those rockets? Wolfgang gulped. How was it even possible for all his friends to perish in less than a minute? He had known, of course, that it was technically never impossible, but still the reality of it seemed mindblowing.

Wolfgang sat down on the ground, his knees suddenly feeling like they were made of soft cottonwool. He did not notice he was crying until he felt the tears streaming down his chin.

He was still crying when the Border Guards arrested him, half an hour later.

*

“Anyone in here play tanchiks?” - Lieutenant Litvinov asked, as he peered at the screen. He could see them now, dozens of tanks, advancing across the field in rhomboid formation, like it was a war film. Had he been watching them with his head out of the commander’s hatch, it would be hard to spot them - they’d be tiny spots of grey, far across the flat wheat films near Kursk. On this screen, they were glowing white spots against the grey, their engines glowing hot against the field.

“What a joke, commander! Who here does not play tanks?” - the gunner said. Indeed, tank MMOs were among the most popular games in Allanean Russia, and of course even moreso among people who had enlisted to serve in the country’s armored forces.

“I to pravda - [Rus. That’s true too. Now, what do you think are those? I think they’re Panzer IV on the middle, and some lighter ones on the sides.”

“That’s right.”

“Think they can hurt us from there?”

“They can’t even see us, Sir. We’re hidden here, and even if we weren’t, they have shit optics. We’re...” - he checked the rangefinder - “Three thousand meters from the lead tank. Shouldn’t we open fire?”

“I want to let them in. Not like they can hurt us even at one hundred.”

“Fuck, this wait is annoying.”

“Don’t want them to run off once they realize we’re picking them off, do we now, Arkhipov?”

The tanks continued to approach, steaming towards them. Inside the grey tanks, young men cheered and laughed as they passed through the wheat fields, leaving broad paths behind them, the engines roaring, the tracks cranking. They were Waffen SS tank crewmen, the very pride and joy of the Fuhrer, handsome young men at peak strength. Behind them, they were certain, the vast military might of the Reich was ready. They knew, by now, that they had been shifted fractally ito some alernate universe - the eggheads from the Annenerrbe had figured so much. But who cared? Was it not even better that they were shifted deep into Russia? They did not know - indeed, even Annenerbe did not know that much - of the differences in time and science between the Russia they wanted to confront, and the one they were actual facing.

Now an entire tank army, slowly unfolding into combat formation, circling around the city of Kursk. The air force was having some problems with the city’s air defense - but surely once they had cut the city off, these could be dealt with. They could do it!

Dieter slammed the commander’s hatch open, and pulled himself up. To his right, he could see, far away in the distance, boxy, tall apartment buildings. This was, he presumed, the city of Kursk, that would soon fall to their hands. Their commander had clearly steered somewhat off course if it was here - or perhaps the city was somewhat larger in this reality. Dieter rested his elbows on the edge of the hatch ring, and looked ahead. Far away, on the edge of the wheat field, there was a small copse of dark-green trees, standing out against the golden-yellow of the wheat.

“Let’s hope there’s not an anti-tank gun there.” - he muttered to himself. “But even if there is... there’s sixteen tanks in this company, and a company behind us. “ - he smiled, letting the sun caress his face as he relaxed for several seconds, letting the sun blow his golden-blond hair in the air, just a shade lighter than the wheat through which their tank was sailing, like a ship in a calm sea. It was a great day.

Far away, a young man with a hair just a shade darker than Dieter’s, who liked to play with toy tanks on the Internet, spoke into his helmet microphone.

“Arkhipov! Raketoy, ogon!” - [RUS. - Rocket, fire!

Dieter did not notice the rocket. He had not even seen a rocket of this type before. All he heard was the thunder of an explosion, and then the turret of the lead tank was torn clear of its mountings, fire erupting from the turret ring. “Was?![i].” [GER. - [i]What?- Dieter gasped in surprise as another explosion rocked the plain. He did not know what was going on - he did not even see the flash of the gunshots. All he knew that his company was suddenly two tanks short - no explanation, nothing.

“Achtung! Minen!” - [Ger. - ”Alert, mines!” - he screamed, his voice carrying shrilly over the engine noise. This was only explanation. Next to him, other tanks began to slow down and stop, making the same assumption he did.

They did not know that, just in that copse, two tanks were waiting for them. They did not know that, inside those tanks, autoloaders were spinning, new anti-tank rockets being fed into the breeches.

“Raketoy, ogon!”

Now Dieter saw the missiles - tiny lights, traveling low over the wheat, so slow they could be seen in flight, moving swiftly towards two more tanks. There were two more explosions. Mere meters away frrom him, another Panzer was ablaze suddenly, men screaming as they dragged themselves out of the hatches, their clothes burning, the men rolling on the ground like living torches, attempting to shake off the flame.

The tanks sped forward, their seventy-five milimeter guns spitting flame, the edge of the wood becoming enveloped in explosions. Trees fell, fire enveloped the branches. For precious seconds, Dieter looked only forward, commanding the crew. He didn’t pay attention to anything but that place where those mysterious anti-tank guns were hidden, and the explosions that his tank guns were causing.

There was a powerful clatter there, like the sound of an aircraft machinegun. Tracers screamed through the air. Now Dieter knew exactly where the enemy position was - the enemy did not bother to hide it. But the of the shots were frightening - where the enemy machinegun lashed at the light tanks of the reconnaissance platoon, it punched through them as if they paper. One Panzer II continued to steam forward uncontrolled for several dozen meters, another spun in its place, yet another caught flame suddenly as a stray bullet clipped the ammunition container. As Dieter looked around him, he saw that the mysterious rockets had now cut the company to half its size.

“Scheisse.” - he hissed.

And then there was a mighty blow, slamming into the tank, that made his entire body shake as he was thrown against the side of the hatch, his ribs aching as he was struck.

As he awoke, he realized was lying on the ground several yards away from the tank. It was burning, of course, and its left track was torn. A terrible hole had also been torn in its hull near where the lead left wheel had been. The SS tank company was no more. He looked back, where the battalion Second Company was pulling up.

He knew already what he would see.

Several burning tanks, spread throughout the field, the wheat smoldering around them. Surviving tanks, backing up around the wreckage - and, suddenly, catching flame.

“What the hell?” - he asked out loud. “What is happening in that copse?”

As he looked towards the copse, his answer was delivered to him.

Two heavy tanks of enormous proportion were pushing out of the woods. Their cannon - impossible, priapic in propotion, probably longer than some tanks’ entire bodies were wide - were turning menacingly as they sought for targets. They fired. Unlike previously, when their gunshots had not been audible (though Dieter couldn’t know, this was because they had been firing rockets) now they barked incredibly, making the sound of Dieter’s own tank gun feel like it had been a firecracker. His entire body was shaken with the sound.

Now it was clear.

Monster tanks, ubertanks with uberguns, delivered by some incredible engineering mind, had butchered his entire company. As Dieter watched, he saw two explosions blossom against the front of one of the enemy tanks, and he was not surprised to see it did not even slow down. Instead it fired back, and its massive gun spat out a blossom of fire that was almost as big as the tank itself for a second.

Dieter pressed himself to the ground in terror. He did not dare fight, of course, or run. He did not dare even surrender. Who could know? Perhaps if he raised his hands in the air, the tank crews would notice him and slay him instantly, through cruelty or perhaps by sheer reflex. Overhead, a heavy machinegun clattered, turning another light tank into a tank-shaped sieved. Inside the machine, three men screamed momentarily as their bodies were sliced up by enormous bullets and mixed with fragments from the tank’s workings. In a terrifying second, Dieter saw a pair of hands grab by the edge of a hatch as a man tried to pull himself free, the man’s head even appeared over the turret’s top - and then the man fell back in, and came up no longer as a bullet had punched through the front of the turret and the tank commander’s chest all at once.

Whimpering, Dieter crawled across the soil, praying to whoever in Heaven or in Hell that whatever force had delivered his SS Panzer battalion to this fate would spare Dieter himself.

*

By evening, it became clear that Dieter had been spared. He crawled for several hundred meters, his face cut with edges of wheat, his black uniform turned brown with mud, and then moved up to his knees and elbows in a concrete-lined ditch to crawl for a few hundred more meters, and then of course ran, and then walked. The ubertanks didn’t notice him, or several of the other man, as they fled from the field, and continued elsewhere.

Finally, when the sunset began to paint the sky blood-red, Dieter finally saw German units.

He realized then why he was left alive. He was left alive to witness this.

Up and down the road, wreckage was spread, and among it, the dead and the injured, both man and horse alike. What had been once some Heer unit was now an indescribable mix of pain and death. The smell of burnt flesh and diesel oil filled one’s nostrils.

As Dieter walked down the highway, stumbling in places where explosions had cratered it, he reached in his pockets for a his handkerchief. It seemed pathetic - a handkerchief for a bandage, when all around him, men were bleeding and dying. Almost mechanically, he knelt next to a man in an officer’s uniform, and tried to bandage the man’s wound. The man was disoriented, half-mad, whimpering and pushing Dieter away as he bound the officer’s head, but after he finished, he at least thanked Dieter. It was obvious he was not going to be of help.

Dieter continued to walk. Within the next few hundred yards of road, Dieter witnessed more suffering that he ever would, before or after in his life. Men injured and dead, trying to tend to their own wounds or simply whimpering on the side of the road. One man, clearly uninjured, rocking back and forth and crying near the wreckage of an overturned truck. Men had been riding in the truck’s rear - now they had been cast around the highway like rag dolls.

The worst was the horses. There were hundred of horses in the division, perhaps thousands. Now many of them were dead, strewn around the highway like so much roadkill. Others were alive still - whinnying painfully as they tried to get up, or running about on the field, uninvited yet driven wild by the sounds and smells.

It was for the first time in his life Dieter had seen a horse cry. It was also for the first (and second, and third, and eights) time that Dieter has had to shoot a horse.

By the time that men in mossy camouflage uniforms arrived, Dieter was almost glad to see them. He turned towards them, and began to walk, tired, the pistol in his hand heavy. He was not sure, yet, if he was going to fight them or surrender.

The men decided for him.

As they saw the black-uniformed figure stumble towards them on the highway, one of them threw his rifle to the shoulder and fired a long burst. The body that had been Dieter Schultheiss slumped.

“Shval’ esesovskaya” - [RUS. - SS scum] -said one of the men . “Malo vas yebly.” - [RUS. - You were fucked too little.]

The sun had almost set.

[Allanea]

Meanwhile, Emperor Jason Frost receives a message from Emperor Alexander Blaken-Kazansky. It is sealed with his personal seal, and delivered, not even by diplomatic mail, but by virtue of an enigmatic courier. The man is clad, not in the uniform of the Free Kingdom Army, nor in that of the Diplomatic Service, but instead in the black of the King’s personal bodyguard. He appears young, but by the catlike grace within which he moves and the arcane power that he exudes, it is made clear he is no mere youth. A steel-covered suitcase is handcuffed to one of his wrists. It is empty.

The sealed letter is inscribed on a length of parchment, and signed by hand by the Emperor. There is no mistaking its importance.

Jason my friend!

The dark times are upon us. No doubt you have heard my address, and you have seen that I am gathering the Light nations to stand together against the Darkness. Your aid, too, is needed. I am planning for a powerful ritual, that shall summon to my aid various items and perhaps entities that will assist Allanea and its allies. To use within this ritual - in a manner that I guarantee will be responsible and secure - I would wish to loan one of the most powerful artefacts in your possession, the famed Horn of Valere.

I will not act foolishly with it, nor shall I cast it into some mountain like a hobbit. I shall use it as a centerpiece of a planned ritual, overseen by a Professor of Planar Travel and Teleportation, and the leading scientific minds of Allanea and New Dornalia.

The courier that carries this message has a scroll of Word of Recall upon his person. You know what these do. Should you consent, give him the Horn. He will place it within the steel suitcase, lock it, and invoke the scroll, carrying him directly to the location where the ritual is being prepared.

May the shadow recede from all lands.
Alexander

[Olwe]

Jason knew the importance of the visit immediately, before he even read the parchment. Ordinarily a visitor from Allanea would enjoy a rather lengthy greeting, but in cases like these some of the niceties were dispensed with in case the matter being brought to the Emperor was time sensitive.

As Jason read the parchment, one of his eyebrows rose slightly. To someone who knew him well, it was a telling reaction... he might as well have jumped through the ceiling. But the Guardsman didn't know him well (though Jason vaguely recognized him, as if he had seen him guarding Alexander at a diplomatic event or something once), and was therefore probably surprised by the lack of reaction.

"We'll have to take a brief trip to get the requested item," he told the Guardsman. "Come with me."

They traveled to the House of Lore via teleportation... time was, after all, of the essence. There they met the curator of artifacts, Maximillian, who presented them with the Horn. Jason watched as the Guardsman put it in the case and then vanished, the Word Of Recall working as it was supposed to. Then he turned back to Maximillian and met his multicolored gaze. "Reach out to the usual suspects," he said. "War might be coming to Olwe."

[CoreWorlds]

JRCCC
San Diego, California
Colonial Republic of Earth

Meanwhile, a distant signal was sent to JRCCC. A signal from a Gracie unit that hasn't been detected since...Impossible! Or is it...?

The late night meeting of the President and other Cabinet members was getting to be a frequent habit. Over large cups of some sort of beverage, one crisis after another had to be solved by the people in charge of the Dornalian state. First, the NORINCO Affair. Then, the Imerian Situation which was off the record. Then, the Thrashian Imperial Evacuation. And now, the event people were calling any number of names. Some used the words Charlie Foxtrot. Others used the more poetic title of “Great Calamity” or “Great Disturbance.”

Either way, it was going to be another long night. Chinese takeout doused in Konoha Fire Sauce to keep everyone awake was the name of the game. Staying awake with huge mugs of strong, black coffee was also the game. At least for some of the cabinet. Some of them insisted on trying out a device some Mastersmith invented known as a Sleep Enhancer Pod. Haggar didn’t understand how they worked, he knew some fucking moron had just stolen the concept from an old pre-Apocalypse comic book--sleep for fifteen minutes, feel like you just slept eight hours.

At any rate, the latest crisis was coming in. Supreme Commander Wachowski lead off.

“At approximately 1400 Hours Pacific Standard Time, JRCCC received a coded message over the Standard Military Communications Network. Identification markers indicated the origin as being from a Gracie Unit, bearing the serial number Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven.” Pausing, Wachowski added, raising an eyebrow, “Scans of the message indicate it is authentic, but the message was taken in for deep scanning by our security staff due to the use of older authentication codes and the identity of the Gracie Unit in question.”

“Well, what’s so special about this Gracie?” Haggar asked, confused.

Matter of factly, Wachowski looked at everyone in the room and said:

“Unit Alpha Six Four Niner Seven, according to our records, was transferred into Coredian service before the Civil War began, and her papers changed by agreement to indicate Coredian citizenship. The transfer was also conducted alongside the transfer of infinite improbability technology. Additionally, the codes it uses correspond to older pre-Civil War authentication codes.”

Everyone in the room paused, and Wachowski said, “Given recent events, we believe that elements of the Semi-Nomadic Republic/Imperial Republic of Coredia have reemerged into our timeline.”

Nadine gasped, and the proud woman was speechless, and her jaw gaped for a few seconds. Wachowski raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is something the matter, Director?”

“No, no it’s fine.” Nadine straightened herself up, and took a particularly long swig of cognac as she said, “I-I just felt like I saw a ghost was all. The last I remember….there was no more Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia. Not even an Imperial Republic of Coredia. Not after everything.” Nadine seemed to greet the news with a mixture of astonishment, shock, and just a tinge of anxiety and joy.

“Evidently, the existence of both Republics can now be confirmed,” Wachowski opined in a deadpan manner. Wachowski then played the message from Gracie-Chuu’nthor, and all paid attention as the Gracie asked to confirm the presence of the Dornalians, and to establish contact.

The message’s intent was clear, and Wachowski said, “We were working on tracing the origin of the signal….until just a few hours ago.”

Flipping the channels to the news and to a big holographic map, Wachowski said, “We received multiple suspicious contacts which seemed to confirm the authenticity of the message.”

Zooming in on a group of ships working alongside a Battlestar, Wachowski said, “I received word that some time ago, the CRS Robert A. Heinlein as well as the CRS Jeishka of Caeralfar, returning home from a patrol in the Andromeda Galaxy, entered into a meeting engagement alongside a ship calling itself the Battlestar Yamato with unknown contacts. Additionally, the news has been reporting disturbances in and around the regions of space controlled by the Elementals--one event after another, all of them involving monstrosities. The patterns are arguably similar to those affecting the Allaneans.”

Wachowski zoomed into the news, and Gracie Liang’s visage reported live from the Signing Ceremony, as she began speaking in a somewhat concerned manner.

”....this just in. It seems--oh, God--there’s panic everywhere. I haven’t been told what exactly is going on, but the rumors are flying hot and fast and frankly, there’s no way to tell what is what right now. All I know is that security has been deployed, and it looks like the Emperor and the King are being monitored closely. It looks like they are injure--wait, no, they seem to be fine….”

The people in the room looked at the scenes of chaos, as Wachowski said, rather nonchalantly in that way people get when they get exposed to weirdness and horror on a near constant loop, “As you can tell, the Elemental Nations is being affected by the Cataclysm.”

Haggar then asked, simply, “How much longer until it comes here?”

Nadine interjected, “That is currently unknown. The Order is hearing rumors, however, none of them good.”

Norton, for once not fighting with Nadine, said simply, “That explains the Chupacabras I hit on my way here.”

“And it would seem, Mr. Simons, that cryptid invasions are not the only thing which has been happening,” Wachowski said with a sigh. “Rumor has it that tourists visiting Central America on Earth were attacked by ghostly marauders in the jungle. Also, rumors of Daedric invasions and even the return of Lawrence Parseegian have been occurring in Nova Louisiana, although we cannot confirm this. And, on Hajarra, ghostly bombs have been going off, with a strange woman with a whip and two Jem’hadar following her being responsible.”

The jaws dropped, as President Haggar said simply, not happy with the situation at hand, “Does that affect our capacity to provide assistance to the Elementals, and the possible Old!Coredian presence?”

“It may, or it may not. Reports seem to indicate that we can for now fulfill our promise to combat the Cataclysm’s effects to those affected.”

“Good. Prepare forces accordingly, and radio back that Gracie, tell them we’re still alive.” Turning to Norton Simons, Haggar said simply, “Nort, get in contact with the Elementals. Tell them we’re going to do what we can to help. Particularly with the newcomers they may have in their midst.”

Gracie-Chu'unthor, Chu'unthor, Exodus Fleet of the Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia

They're alive.

Being an AI, Gracie didn't really have eyes, or a body, or anything but the most complex coding man has made, coding that gave her life. But that coding also allowed her to learn and to grow. To touch the stars with her fingers and eke out their secrets. And most importantly, to feel.

The Dornalians are alive.

As a person in her own right, given full citizenship by the authority of the Emperor and the laws of Coredia, she's able to do what few, even the vaunted Jedi, could do. She can monitor the hypermatter and hyperspace reactors, gleaning into the exotic matter for issues that only she could resolve. She can peer out into the depths of space and use her faster-than-light sensors to monitor threats from even a solar system away. She can order around troops and even launch missiles when the Exodus Fleet is threatened.

And yet, the words kept swirling around in her digital thoughts.

In the ethereal world of cyberspace, where mere seconds take an eternity, she pondered the realization of a proud nation's existence and perhaps the potential for many of the old allies to return. Perhaps not in triumph, but certainly to see what has transpired.

The Dornalians are alive and she needs to respond.

That snapped her back into business. She's the main artificial intelligence of the hopes and dreams of what is now no longer the last of the Republic, not a simpering girl. She nevertheless wiped a digital tear she hasn't realized she was shedding and steeled herself. It is time.

"Right, then." She cracked her knuckles and began composing her reply, relaying to Dornalia what she sees as she goes along.

Code: Select all

Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor, checking in at long last!
It's been a long time, hasn't it? By our chrono, it's about five--no, fifteen--what? Two hundred--you're kidding! Three thousand--that's impossible!

Well, apparently looks like our chronos have borked up by whatever chaos is going on out there. Stand by. Temporal shields compensating.

Compensated. First things. We're alive, definitely. All five hundred thirty five million, two hundred twenty seven, six hundred and ninety nine, oh, wait, seven hundred and seven. Just saw a new group pop into existence. Looks like part of the Padawan Pack. Sending Jedi to confirm. Anyway. Dr. Rina Masaki reports that the Infinite Improbability Drive activated on its own without input from the scientists, and apparently, whatever activated it used it as a catalyst to cause a whole lot of mess on the Exodus Fleet, including the biggest damned disturbance in the Force. Fortunately, it seems to be dying down, but unfortunately it appears that we have a situation. I can now confirm that the long-dead primary worlds of Coredia, Juria, Jurai, Konoha and Issus have somehow been resurrected, as well as the minor worlds that were ruined in the many conflicts we suffered. No word on Tenetia, Tantis or Sparta yet.

Even worse, we may or may not be in the clear. We have tentative reports of Shivan activity in and around Coredian space. Emperor Masaki has gone to clear them out. Recommend rallying at Jurai if you're sending aid.

No idea of Imperial or Sith presence, but I wouldn't count them out of the universe just yet.

Now...questions. What has happened since we were gone?

Any idea what may have happened to start up the IPD on its own? What can we do to help you and Allanea? We won't be able to fully assist in any matter until we defeat the Shivans, but we'll do what we can, because we must.

And finally, what the hell is this Elemental Nation of Coredia we keep hearing about?

Over.

---

The Grand National Temple
Mars County, CRE

The Grand National Temple of the Order of the Vanguards was the holy grail of Dornalian magical practice. Less a temple than a sprawling complex which resembled a large university campus--a common design trope among the Order’s facilities--it certainly lived up to the moniker of “Grand,” all right. This was especially with the Meeting Hall dominating the campus--a large, modernist design that recalled the Order’s California roots.

The campus was abuzz with activity. Anyone who was anyone felt a disturbance in the Force, and even the non-Force using types were feeling the heat. With the Cataclysm or, more crudely, the “Fustercluck” as people called it, that sinking feeling was felt more and more recently. The rumors had been buzzing. There was the usual claptrap about chupacabras and other such things. The one that really got people going was the sighting of the Mahdi in the Old Shinmei Temple. The Mahdi had become the Order’s big bogeyman since the days of the Civil War, and his name wasn’t greeted kindly. If he came back, all hell had indeed broken loose. Then again, there were rumors of Daedric invasion in Nova Louisiana--or cyberdemons. Anything was fair game at this point. Nevermind the fact that

One rumor which was proving rather true was that the Temple Infirmary and the Commissary were finding themselves doing a brisk business in aspirin and other painkillers--and the bars nearby were doing disturbingly brisk business.

The prognosticatory types were trying to divine the source of the messes, to determine if perhaps the craziness infecting the universe had some origin. Among the ranks of the prognosticatory types was a prominent practitioner of necromancy, Albert Wong Fong-Shek, who apparently had even gone over to visit the Kazanskys to do what he could for Cassie Kazansky--an old friend. Professor Wong was good kirin folk, and his knowledge would be useful in the days to come.

But the place where Jesse and company would be teleporting would not be anywhere too large. Rather, it would be into a meeting room, where a group of the Order’s finest would be sitting around a large table. At its head was Kylie Walker, whose uniform had some very distinguishing markers denoting her status. Namely, a fourragere cord on her left side, embroidered in gold, along with some distinguishing rank pips, some slightly shinier medals, and also a small half-cape. Besides the obvious accommodation for her cats’ tail and ears, the whole uniform gave a very Victorian look.

In the room was a collection of refreshments--most of them based on that time honored Dornalian food. The Sausage. Terry Tadanobu herself could be seen busily gnawing on a sausage, absentmindedly.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee and offering refreshments to Jesse and John, she said, “Thank you for coming, Mr. Masaki. I’m Superior-General Kylie Walker. You already know of Captain-General Terry Tadanobu--”

“Just call me Terry,” Terry said with a wave.

“--anyway. I know this was on short notice, but I’ll be frank with you and Captain Watsen.” Walker addressed Watsen by his rank--a good rank in the Order, one that would enable John to take on apprentices if he so chose. Sipping her coffee, Kylie said, sighing, “The universe is going to hell in a handbasket, thanks to some madman opening up Pandora’s Box. The Pandora’s Box. You’ve probably heard about the Allanean situation--place is becoming an all-you-can-eat buffet for any number of crazies, including reports of Phyrexian invaders and even forces aligned with Cthulhu himself. Other nations are experiencing the heat, including Dyste and its multiple Tyroth Blackfangs. Frankly, it’s getting hard to tell what is the truth, and what’s just hearsay waiting to be made true. I’ve got people running around trying to make sense of all this hand-in-hand with the government types. Ain’t easy when there’s a lot of disturbances in the Force to take care of.”

Turning to Jesse, she then said, “One of these recent events is quite relevant to you. It involves….a relative of yours. Daniel Masaki. As you can no doubt see from the newsfeeds, forces aligned with either the Semi-Nomadic or Imperial Republics of Coredia--which we’ve taken to calling Old Coredia recently--have appeared, presumably due to the ongoing Cataclysm’s entropic effects. Additionally, the entropic forces unleashed by Pandora’s Box not only brought Brother Daniel and elements of the Old Coredia back, they’ve also caused a rash of events across the Elemental Nations. Rumors of ravenous bugs. Old enemies. And some group calling itself the Six-Star Alliance.”

Leaning forward, Kylie said simply, “We’re going to need your help in helping to deal with some of this craziness. It may involve Daniel. It may not. I just know from an anonymous source on the grapevine that a Dornalian vessel--the CRS Robert A. Heinlein--has already made contact with a task element of his named the Battlestar Yamato. And if what they say is true. Shit’s going to get serious. We’ll give you whatever resources you require.” She then added, “That does include babysitters for your brother, if you so require. I’ve got a couple of candidates in mind. Good with kids, and need a comeback.”

Terry then asked, “Any questions?”

"Damn. Couldn't stay gone." John Watsen scowled at the news of returning Masakis.

"Decorum, Captain Watsen." Jesse chided sternly. John shut up at the sting of Jesse's whip, as Jesse was one of the few Masakis he respected. That, and Jesse outranked him. Jesse knew John still had issues with the Masaki Royal Family, but no longer fears that they would kill him or use his soul for evil. Still doesn't care for the opulence of a rich royal family who hasn't been very rich in a long time, but then again, perceptions are everything with the young Orderman. He's getting better at it, but he's got a lot to learn before he can stand in a room with Stinking Rich Folk and not gag. Perhaps more lessons may be in order in the future...

"I think for the time being, I will leave Uncle Daniel to his own devices. He can care for himself, despite appearances." Jesse smiled. He did look forward to meeting the 'light side' half of the family, but he felt duty calls first. "I will like to assist in clearing out the mess here before I deal with the worlds beyond. Now, tell me about this Madhi and this Daedra invasion. I sense they will need to be nipped before they cause great damage."

"I'll help with those." John added.

"Be sure those Ordermen are informed of what transpires if they fail to care for my brother." Jesse smiled thinly. Then he frowned. "But I do not recall any Battlestar Yamato. I may no longer have access to Mother's intelligence, but I know there is Coredia, Juria, Konoha, Tenetia and Issus. Perhaps it's yet another strange appearance or a very recent new model? Regardless, refresh our memories of the Madhi and this Daedra force."

-----

CRS Robert A. Heinlein
Somewhere in Deep Space

As it turned out, the Battlestar Yamato’s hails had not gone unanswered. As Wachowski helpfully indicated, two of Dornieland’s finest vessels, the CRS Robert A. Heinlein and CRS Jeishka of Caeralfar had stumbled upon the situation as they were returning home from the Andromeda Galaxy.

The Jeishka was seemingly normal enough. Clad in battleship grey, it looked fairly conventional, albeit like a bigger, sleeker, more aggressive looking version of that sci-fi classic ship, the Daedalus class. However, the ship next to it, the Heinlein looked a lot more sleek and intimidating. It looked a lot like a kunai, or even a Fairbairn-Sykes Combat Knife flying through space. Given that it was General Motors’ interpretation and vast modification of the Federation’s Prometheus-class design, this was not a surprise.

Onboard the Heinlein, the Gracie unit onboard, resembling an Ambiguously Brown Mobile Infantrywoman, would be continuously relaying battlefield footage onto the holographic screens alongside a projection of her colleague from the Jeishka, who resembled what could be best described as a “Generic Fantasy High Elf with Skin So Shiny It Could Blind Someone.”
All across the screens were images of destruction. The Jeishka was a moderately fast ship, but its cannons were faster. Having long since been retrofitted with new power generators and the Forced Uniform Colliding Kill Projector series of cannons--a directed energy weapon which harnessed Improbability Waves to deal damage to enemy ships in either cutting or pulsed fire--and also a heavy torpedo launcher and a series of gauss cannons, the Jeishka was firing off what could be described best as “gobs of high energy weapons fire.”

In more precise terms that meant that in rapid succession, bolts of reality distorting energy firepower were erupting from 20 different continuous fire banks firing out shiny blue energy stream crackling with lightning around them, along with what looked like rainfall, but made of similar blue crackling energy bolts flying from the quad emplacements, three per side. Either way, a lot of firepower was coming out at the space demon-dragons, and due to the fact the Dornalians seemed to have rather good accuracy and fire control systems, many of the crew felt a good chance that they would hit something that was hostile.

Gracie-Heinlein looked at the long streams of fire, and wondered out loud, “Compensating for something?”

“No, why?” Gracie-Jeishka said, somewhat perturbed.

“Well, I mean, look at the light show going on. I mean, I like overwhelming firepower too, but somehow, I think you’re just doing this to show off.”

“Am not.” Gracie-Jeishka said, frowning.

“Am too!” Gracie-Heinlein said with a knowing wink.

“W-welll, we have to do what we must to win the battle! The lives of the people aboard the Yamato are at stake!” Gracie-Jeishka said that with a blush, indicating perhaps that her sister had struck a bit closer to home than she might have expected.

Gracie-Heinlein said, with a smirk, “I know. Just saying, you could work on your precision a bit.”

“Okay, then. What’s your definition of precision?”

Snapping her fingers, Gracie-Heinlein turned to the captain and shouted, “Captain? Can we do that Multi-Vector Assault Mode business?”

Looking at the combat feeds, the captain said, “Sure” with a shrug.

With another snap of her fingers, Gracie-Heinlein said, “Initiating Multi Vector Assault Mode. All Personnel, Stand By. Repeat, initiating Multi Vector Assault Mode!”

The Dragons would be able to notice the lithe black ship harassing them with its own weapons fire now suddenly splitting into three parts, all of them very heavily armed and seeming to move rather too quickly for comfort as they began firing away at the Dragons.

For her part, Gracie-Heinlein whistled and said, “Where were we?”

Three Executioners, three ships. It seemed like an easy task, but the surprise arrival of the Dornalians forced the monsters to scatter, deflecting much of the fire with strange shields that flared with every blow. A few hits got in and they bellowed in pain, then immediately started regenerating. Their scanners now resolved the monsters on their screens. They're not very big compared to the ships arrayed against them, comparable to the Corellian Corvette in size, though the wingspans made them look bigger, but they are still two hundred meter long dragons with power outputs that could one-shot continents.

They saw the other ship split apart, raising the stakes even further. But the three were powerful. Godlike and they desired to prove their worth to their Masters. So gathering rune-like energy in the palm of their hands, even as they dodged and weaved around the enemy fire, they fired immense stream of orange light into the enemy Heinlein and Jeishka ships. If successful, the stream would hit and strange runes would trap the ship within, preventing escape. Then the trap would become a space oven, raising the temperature and density so high that matter was turned into quark-gluon soup. Even the shields of Coredia's battleships were unable to withstand the instant fireballs and it was part of how they were destroyed in this timeline. All that's left of the enemy would be a thin stream of glowing particles, all too easily dissipated by interstellar winds.

That is but one of several weapons in the Enforcer arsenal, and today, they intended to use them all.

But there is hope. After the Executioners fired, a series of flashing lights appeared around the battlefield, resolving into the Battlestar Coredia and the Eighth Fleet!

---

"What the hell are those things?!" Commodore Holland Novak growled, seeing the readings for the first time.

"Unknown, sir, but they seriously have a lot of power. Fast, too!" His best friend and XO Hap raised his eyebrows in trepidation. "Orders?"

"Launch all fighters. Use the Vector Engines. Don't let those big shots hit you! Chief!" Commodore Holland called the Ship's AI.

"Sup?" The Chief AI of the ship asked in a drawl. Coredia's own homegrown ship AI, Chief has learned many things from contact with the Gracie units, including how to change appearance to suit their personality. This Chief looked like a young man with a long braided pigtail and a no-sleeve Chinese-style qi outfit.

"Coordinate with the Gracie units! We'll have to take them down one by one! And get me what you have on those things!" Commodore Holland ordered.

Chief whistled as he trained the sensors onto the enemy. "Two hundred meters long, two hundred fifty meter wingspans, and very slippery indeed. And you wouldn't think so, but those orange blasts...let's just say you don't want the Coredia to get caught in it. They can turn whatever they hit into quark soup!"

"That's..." Commodore Holland could only exclaim in shock.

"Yeah, even the Death Star doesn't have that kind of hax. It reaches into nearly Godulan or Balroggan levels of hax. The one good news, if you can call it good, is that their defenses appear to be weak, as they're relying on speed and agility instead of tanking the hits. Lock them down and you can hit them!"

"Then the Anakin Skywalker will launch attacks at range! Asuma Sarutobi, render all available assistance to the Yamato! All other forces, focus fire on one foe at a time! Box them into killzones and keep them in your sights and for Force's sake, keep out of the blasts!" Commodore Holland ordered.

But it was too late for one unlucky corvette, who did get caught by the blast of the lead Enforcer. Runes suddenly surrounded the corvette and try as it might, it could not escape, and all available fire simply passed through them. The ship's crew could only scream in horror as the runes vaporized them in a flash of brilliant orange light, leaving nothing but glowing particles that soon faded away.

That is the fate that awaits all those who stand in the way of the Executioners.

---

Yamato

Padawan Mark Amaral couldn't believe it. Not only did the Dornalians somehow survive to save the day, but the Battlestar Coredia was here, too!

"But I thought it was destroyed with all hands!" He stammered. He remembered the attack. How the Coredia fought a whole flock of enemy Executioners and Starmen, how his Master used everything in his arsenal to buy time for his apprentice to escape. How...that giant dragon, that massive country-sized beast, Anankos Grima, Supreme Commander of the enemy armada and Giygas' most trusted lieutenant, finished off his Master and tore apart the last refuge of Coredia, the ship's namesake planet, with his godlike powers...

Mark shook his head to ward away the terrible memory. He just hoped that these forces will be enough.

Then...

"Captain Kurosawa, the Asuma Sarutobi is hailing us!" The comms officer of the Yamato yelled.

"Onscreen." Captain Kurosawa nodded as the battle raged around us.

A man in his mid-twenties appeared on the Yamato's screens. "This is Jounin Konohamaru Sarutobi, commanding officer of the Asuma."

"We read you." Captain Kurosawa replied. "Captain Kurosawa of the Battlestar Yamato, reporting."

"I'm Padawan Mark Amaral, Sensei." The boy said, bowing to the Jounin, who nodded back.

"Very well. First things first. I can tell you'll need a shipyard, but do you need medical attention?"

"Yes, we do. Our ship is overflowing with refugees. We'll need all the assistance we can get. Medical, engineers to fix our FTL engines and so on."

"Very well. We'll teleport onboard ASAP. Just one other thing. We seem to have no recording of a Battlestar Yamato in our Fleet. You're definitely Coredian, but where did you come from?"

Captain Kurosawa frowned at the question. "I'm curious myself. I remember a Konohamaru Sarutobi in our archives. Problem is, he's supposed to be a long dead Kage who died about three thousand years ago."

Padawan Amaral piped up in confusion. "But that would mean...we somehow got transported to the past?"

"Or we into the future." To his credit, Jounin Sarutobi kept his face calm at the possible implications. "Either way, we'll need to render assistance and defeat those demons. Discussion will come later."

"Right." Captain Kurosawa nodded to his shield officer, who began modulating the Yamato's shields to accept the Sarutobi's teleport signals. Within moments, medical personnel appeared onboard, followed by engineers to help fix the ships' FTL drives.

Meanwhile, the battle rages on, even as Jounin Sarutobi sent the new information about the Yamato to the Coredia, who sent it again to the Dornalians for later examination.

And then...


---

The Enforcer Lord Mordakai, servant to the Convictor Malakai, and master of the Enforcer force sent to destroy the Yamato laughed at the feeble mortals flinging everything they have against him, dancing among the firepower thrown at him and his two fellows, embracing the pain of war with a zeal once reserved for Chaos cultists.

He called upon his Voice, a sound that was not a sound. It was a harsh, heartrending sensation of command, a voice that compelled obedience to all who listened. In this Voice, a message was sent.

"Greetings, irregularities! I am Enforcer Mordakai, Servant of the Convictors who rule on behalf of the Creator! By the will of the Creator, all who do not bend the knee to us shall bow in pieces! But know that I am a merciful Executioner. Let this battle be forgotten if you but give over the Padawan of the late Emperor Masaki to the care of the Creator. After all, what is one simple boy against the multitude you all cherish and protect? It is a simple request that all should obey, immediately."

He, of course, didn't expect obedience. But that's okay. He'll tear apart the mortal fleet, consume the Yamato and all within in a Dark Sphere and take the boy back to his Master. But there's a strangeness in the aether. A strangeness even he didn't expect. As if the entire universe twisted in ways that advance the cause of his Creator...

Ah, yes. He felt himself growing stronger with every minute. Chaos ran rampant and the energies fuels his power. He laughed in joy as he fired Disaster bolts to pepper the enemy fleets, small, rapid-firing bolts that cut into X-wings and Vipers gunning for him as easily as one cuts butter.


------

Jurai

When Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon, Supreme Command of the Coredian Interstellar Defense Force woke up, he wasn't dead, like he expected one of those days past his hundred and twenty fifth birthday. Nor was he in his home on Sparta, doting on his many great-grandchildren and teaching his grandson Kensuke the finer points of command, or in his office, cursing the damned fools Danzo and Itachi for ruling Coredia as co-regents over the even more damned fool Janus. Instead, he recognized this bed as his stateroom on the CSD Phoenix, the most powerful and most advanced warship Coredia has ever produced.

As he got up, he immediately noticed something strange. He was no longer feeling the aches and pain of his hundred and twenty-seven year old body. In fact, he felt wonderful...as if he was in his prime! Not a day over fifty!

How strange. How curious. He knew there were treatments that could reverse the ailments of age, but he was never vain enough to want to extend his lifespan, preferring to wait out his final years in retirement on Sparta, doting on his many descendants and teaching courses at the military academy. It's as if the Universe decided to want to extend his time against his will, and he's been around enough supernatural malarkey long enough to know that such dramatic changes always come with a price.

Well, no use in crying over spilled banthamilk. It was time to resume his duty as Supreme Commander and enjoy his newfound fountain of youth while he still had it. He headed into the refresher and took a look at himself in the mirror. Yes, he definitely looks about fifty, although his grey-white hair and mustache still adorned his head. He cleaned himself up and put on his snow-white Grand Admiral's uniform, careful to ensure that his gold shoulder pads with the trimmings was clean. Then he made his way outside the door.

And what was waiting but Jedi Master Press Tilton, the current Grand Master of the Order after Armas Elendil died on Issus. There was surprise on the Jedi Master's face as he regarded the Admiral. "It looks like you're not the only one that the Event has affected."

"Event?" Admiral Pellaeon asked. He noticed the Jedi Master had a similar youthful resurrection. "So you're saying it's happening to more than just me?"

"In a manner of speaking. Some of our crew were reduced to toddlers and children. Others grew old and we're prescribing the anti-aging treatments as we speak. And that's not all." The two men started walking towards the bridge. Lowly Padawans, Genin and ensigns saluted as they passed by. "About an hour ago, every Jedi in the galaxy received a major disturbance in the Force. A strangeness unlike any other we've ever experienced. It wasn't a planet popper incident or a Chaos incursion. It was different. As if reality itself got twisted into a pretzel. We know that the other members of Coredia's supernatural community experienced a similar event. Our elven seers could only inform us that 'Pandora's Box' has opened."

"Pandora's Box. The legendary artifact that's said to encase all the ills in the universe." Admiral Pellaeon echoed. The old men quickened their pace. "Tell me how bad it is."

"There's good news and very bad news." Master Tilton sighed. "Good news is, we've gotten signals from every planet in our space. Every single planet, including the ones that were destroyed in the wars, including Coredia itself. The bad news is, we're under attack by our old 'friends' the Shivans as well as assorted odds and ends."

"By the Force." Admiral Pellaeon's eyes widened. "It's as if time turned back to where we started."

"There's more. Our astronomers had to get their eyes checked, but...we're detecting stellar formations from both the Milky Way Galaxy and the Corusca Galaxy. Even I can't fully understand what's happening. It's as if both galaxies have started to merge, but that's not possible. We're in the same supercluster, but it'd take billions of years for such a merging."

"Let's deal with the problem at hand." Admiral Pellaeon shook his head as they entered the lift to the Bridge. Just too big to deal with right now. "Who's in command of the Fleet, which Masaki is running the show and how can we kick the Shivans out of our space for good?"

"We haven't seen the last Supreme Commander yet, so for all intents and purposes, it's you. The Exodus Fleet reports that Daniel Masaki is coming soon, so there's that. But if the Coredia System is what I think it is, his father or grandfather may be in charge, but we haven't been able to raise them yet. But I think we'll settle that at a later date."

"People and planets coming back from the dead. Old enemies rising to strike again. It's like the most cliche holofilm imaginable." Admiral Pellaeon shook his head again. "But it is what it is. Have you managed to raise any of our allies or rivals?"

"Nothing on the Imperials. We've got confirmation from Gracie that at least the Dornalians and the Allaneans are around. Oh, and here's the kicker. These...reality distortions have triggered the Exodus Fleet's experimental Infinite Improbability Drive, and it's running on full power. There's no way to stop it until it stops itself."

"Infinite improbabilities. So literally anything could happen. Even Palpatine coming back like a bad smell. Great. I question the wisdom of putting that thing on the fleet." Admiral Pellaeon growled. The lift then chimed and the doors opened.

"ADMIRAL ON DECK!" Yelled the sergeant-at-arms as the Admiral and the Jedi Master walked purposely on the bridge. Everyone, from the lowliest recruit to the grizzled Captain of the Ship stood up and saluted. For the Admiral, it was like a welcoming mat. He took the time to enjoy the moment and then returned the salute.

"As you were. Give me a sitrep of the situation!" He barked.

The Captain of the Ship and the Executive Officer of the First Fleet of the IDF, a Duros named Ramud Felani, turned to the Admiral, nodding as a crewman gave both men datapads of the current crisis. "Admiral. Master Jedi. I have recently been informed that the ESD Megalodon has just rescued a cruise liner from one of those small Cain-class Shivan cruisers. They will be arriving insystem momentarily. We've also detected a large contingent of Shivan battleships bearing down on our old border worlds of Andila, Yorkshire, Ratooine and Candia. I've also been informed that the Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth and Twelfth Fleets have all reported in. They appear to be intact, save for strange events, like some ships being more advanced than others and some...age problems. Third Fleet do not, repeat do not have the Kythonization problem on them."

"First good news I've heard all day." Admiral Pellaeon said. "What else?"

"It's true, sir. We have Coredia, Juria, Issus, our own Jurai here." He waved at the planet in the distance. No longer white, and no longer Godulan. As if the Imperial Nightcloak never happened, but also containing dense cityscape on the dark side. "And every single world that was destroyed or ruined in our wars against the Shivans. The only worlds missing are Sparta, Tenetia, Tantis and a number of colony worlds that were taken from us during the Galactic wars."

"Most interesting. Have we managed to raise Coredia yet?" Master Tilton asked.

"Not quite yet. There seems to be some sort of distortion preventing hyperwave tranceivers from getting through. I've sent scouts but they haven't reported back yet. We'll probably have to go in ourselves."

"Mmm." Admiral Pellaeon mused. "Be sure to have them report to us immediately."

Then the fleet recorded a massive hyperspace reversion of an entire fleet in a crisp, professional battle formation. First, the Wolfpacks came, dozens consisting of a Corvette and four gunships each. Then came the frigates and light cruisers. Then came the medium and heavy cruisers. Then the mighty Star Destroyers and Star Cruisers appeared. Then two Battlestars, Konoha and Juria appeared. And then finally, a massive Star Battleship registered as Duel of the Fates. Morale raised higher as it's clear that the Emperor has arrived!

The Admiral grinned and raised the Duel of the Fates. "Your Majesty. It appears your hyperspace formation has achieved oneness with the Force, but can you dance with the Hutts?"

"If I have to dance with the Hutts, I'd better bring my best." Daniel replied, with a wry grin. It's an old code couched in ribbing. "It is good to hear from you, Admiral. But last I checked, you were holding my wayward nephew's hand on Sparta."

"And last I checked, you were consumed by the Farstars singularity at Issus. But as you can see, both you and Issus were returned, good as new." Admiral Pellaeon said.

"Well, on my part, it's a long story. It involves a Pact, a Quest and a great deal of strangeness." The Emperor replied. "Also, Naruto and I discovered the fox's name. Kurama."

"Huh. I look forward to hearing the story. But that comes later." The Admiral said, but just then, a much smaller hyperspace reversion came...and then a very strange form of reversion, looking more like a series of brilliant blue lights, resolved into a very sleek looking design, almost Mon Calamari. "What the?"

"This is the ESD Megalodon to all forces insystem. We have rescued a civilian liner, repeat, a civilian liner known as the Light of Apris from a Shivan attack near Kyoto." Came the voice of Commodore Jeisha Lymann, long thought dead with all hands with the ship. "They say they are from an Elemental Nations of Coredia."

That caused quite a bit of stir. Another Coredia?!

"Light of Apris, this is Grand Admiral Pellaeon of the Phoenix. Do you need any assistance?" Admiral Pellaeon called.

The comms crackled for a moment, letting Pellaeon know that there was some odd technology involved. Then, "Yes, Admiral. Captain Harmann here. We'll need medical assistance and perhaps a way back home. Just to ask, you are the Coredian Interstellar Defense Force?"

"Yes, we are." Admiral Pellaeon said.

There was silence for a moment, and then...

"Admiral, I am General Akihito Masaki, Deputy Commander in Chief of the Military Corps of the Elemental Nations of Coredia. I was en route to a vacation planet called Hydia for some R&R when this attack happened. If I miss my guess right, you are the Imperial Republic and/or Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia?" A warm grandfatherly voice answered the airwaves.

Shock reverbrated across the fleet. A high-ranking General Masaki from an alternate Coredia! Even Daniel Masaki was stunned. "This is Emperor Daniel Masaki. We're the Semi-Nomadic Republic. How?"

"How did I know you? How did all this happen? The latter, I don't know myself." General Akihito chuckled. "The former? Well, your Majesty. That's a most curious story to tell. According to our own records as given to us by the Dornalians, you vanished in a flash of light around ten years ago. Very curious. You have magic, sword-wielding warriors called Jedi, shinobi of Konohagekure, a powerful Masaki Clan and a nation that has suffered greatly in its past. We also have magic, sword-wielding warriors called Samurai, our Masaki Clan are firebending shinobi from Konohagekure, and we've just recovered from a great war ourselves. I think it's safe to say that this universe just got stranger than we have ever imagined."

"Oh my!" Captain Filoni exclaimed in shock as the implications sank in.

"But regardless, I believe we should trade notes later. It's clear that we have a major crisis on our hands." General Masaki said, his warmth fading into a stern tone. "These...Shivans. Looks like we'll have to deal with them first."

The Emperor and the Admiral snapped back into place, ordering the military around to prepare for war. Jedi Master Press Tilton replied, "This is Jedi Master Press Tilton, Grand Master of the Coredian Jedi Order. I think in the interests of furthering relations between our two nations and in the interests of galactic peace, I believe it would be best to welcome you to Jurai for our emergency conference."

"That will be acceptable. As of right now, I'm a general without an army until I can find Elemental space again, but I can provide what modest help I can manage." General Masaki replied, then added, "So much for vacation."

"Indeed. So much for vacation." Admiral Pellaeon replied with a chuckle. "I'll be down there myself. Master Tilton, do head over to the Temple and see how many of our supernatural community still remain. We'll eventually need to get to the bottom of this crisis and assuredly, we'll need your assistance."

Master Tilton bowed. "I will do so immediately, Admiral."

"Captain, orders for the IDF. Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth Fleets are to counteract Shivan incursions immediately and find what leadership we can of the Imperial Republic. The rest of the fleets will gather at Jurai. Our target will be the Lucifer, should it show itself." Admiral Pellaeon smiled thinly. "Time to see if we have gained enough since those days to kill it."

"As you will, Admiral." The Duros Captain nodded and began relaying orders to the fleets.

Some time later, the Coredian Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent a special diplomatic message to all parties involved.

To: New Dornalian State Department, Allanean Foreign Ministry, All Foreign Ministries

Re: We Are Back!

We are glad to inform all parties that, contrary to popular belief, rumors of our cessation of existence have been greatly exaggerated. Were it not for this trying time, we would gladly reopen relations with all interested parties. As it is, it appears we have stumbled into a great crisis unlike ever seen before. We are currently seeing renewed Shivan incursions and will gladly welcome aid to rid us of that old scourge, and if aid is requested to deal with crises in other lands, be aware that our aid is limited until we destroy the Shivan force. In our opinion, it would be prudent if we could find a time and place to band together and work to resolve this crisis ASAP, so we've opened the planet Jurai to those who are willing and able to attend.

Once more, on behalf of Emperor Daniel Masaki and Grand Master Press Tilton of the Coredian Jedi Order, it's good to be back! Expect more from us in the future!

Sincerely yours,

Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs Demaala Starlander

PS: Elemental Nations of Coredia Diplomatic Corps, we have rescued your General Akihito Masaki and your cruise liner Pride of Apris. As this is what is essentially a first contact situation, we believe it would be most prudent to formally meet at your earliest convenience. Meet us at our Jurai System. Be sure come armed and dangerous. Shivans are very dangerous foes indeed.

PPS: Grand Prussian Empire of Allanea, we, the Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia has received your dispatch. We are assembling at our planet Jurai to kick the Shivans out of our space, so any aid will be limited to what we can spare. Where will you be holding this conference?

PPPS: Colonial Republic of New Dornalia, it's been a while. Our Gracie Unit said you were still alive, so let's meet at Jurai and catch up on old times. Also, care to join us in ridding the universe of our old Shivan adversaries?

-----

???

Joshua Midgard is an orphan with a big pair of shoes to fill. Found in the region of the planet that gave him his surname, he was captured by Quark and then captured again by those Starways people. Through a strange device called the Animus, he learned of a truth, that he is the Avatar of Coredia, the embodiment of the nation and the most powerful being in the Coredian corner of the galaxy. But with such power comes a heavy, weighty responsibility to not misuse that power, for as the Avatar goes, so goes Coredia.

So as soon as he returned to Coredia, he was immediately sent to an outpost world called Vanguard, where he was cloistered into a secret base by the ancient Order of the Lotus to teach him the secret arts of the Avatar. But then the great Event happened and his power activated in response, causing a huge mess on the planet.

The mess died down, but young Joshua was still unconscious in the infirmary and the base commander, one Lieutenant Mortimer Deadman was concerned for his well-being. But he need not be concerned, for the Avatar is elsewhere.

Astral Plane

The Astral Plane. The place where gods meet and have poker every Tuesday. Here, Avatar Joshua floats in a space that's not a space, a time that's not a time. He notices something disturbing as he's floating around. In the Astral Plane, one can see far into the mortal realm and what he sees is what greatly disturbs him.

He sees terrible rents in the fabric of the universe. Paradoxical knots tied in the fourth dimension, as old men meet with their younger selves and young men meet their child and grandfather selves once more. Chaos created by probabilities becoming possibilities becoming actualities. Gigantic dimensional cracks that release all manner of horrors or suck star systems into the netherworld of the Void. As the Avatar, his job is to protect Coredia from all that would harm it, for if Coredia falls, he falls with it. And yet, it is clear that there is a deep, terrible problem.

He saw a glimpse of a strange box being opened, releasing all the ills of the universe. He saw a bright light flash as a strange machine activated, creating an infinite probability event, where literally anything could happen. He saw the cracks in the universe warp and buckle, growing wider, devouring all of time and space.

He saw the worst. Chaos swallowing entire star systems into the Warp. Strange, terrible ships glowing red and black descending upon helpless planets. Monsters that looked strangely like the Executioners who led the Eldritch Races to war against the Elemental Nations in the Eldritch War using gigantic orange runes to shoot beams at planets, creating vast spacetime-eating holes that devoured the planets. He saw massive eldritch abominations reach out and grasp at civilizations with their tentacles. He saw more terrible actions by more terrible beings, all pointing to the final extinction of the universe far before its own time if nothing is done.

Avatar Joshua grew determined, even in the face of such unrelenting chaos. It's his job to save the universe, right? But...the problem is so big! How was he even to begin fixing this problem?

"You will not be able to face this crisis alone, young Avatar." A powerful, regal voice sounded amid the visions. The voice then resolved into a massive dragon, clad in what looked like silvery-black scales that looked more like armor than reptilian skin. Its wings can close around a planet, so wide did they stretch.

"Lord Bahamut." Avatar Joshua bowed. "It is good to see you."

"And you. I am not alone in this." Bahamut waved a huge claw-filled hand.

Joshua then saw a bearded figure that's permanently set ablaze by nuclear fusion, but the heat and light didn't harm his clothes or body. He recognized the deity as the Sun God Apris, who's Church is one of the more popular religions in the Elemental Nations. "Lord Apris."

"Avatar Joshua. A pleasure. A shame we couldn't meet under more pleasant stars." Apris said with a deep voice filled with warmth.

"Same here." Joshua said. As he looked around, he saw two more powerful figures.

One is an aged figure with white hair and a long beard. He wears white robes with a necklace that looks very much like a series of 9's. He also has on his back a Buddhist shakujo with one side being ringed and the other side having a strange crescent.

"Avatar Hagoromo Otsutsuki, the Sage of the Six Paths and King of the Spirit World." Joshua bowed deeply.

"A pleasure to meet my latest incarnation." Hagoromo nodded gracefully. "We should have tea sometime."

A second figure is younger. A tall, older teenager in a red cap, a striped blue and white T-shirt and blue jeans, tapering off with red sneakers. He has an old, worn backpack with a pair of baseball bats shown through the zipper and a deadly-looking yo-yo hanging off the side. There's also a series of red and white balls on the boy's belt. The boy grinned. "Yo, next self. Funny thing happened on the way here. Seems I've popped into reality at Coredia City. Caused quite a stir, as you can imagine. But I managed to talk the Shogun into proving who I am."

"Wait, really, Avatar Ness?" Joshua exclaimed. "That's impossible! There can't be more than one incarnation of the Avatar at the same time! And you died twelve years ago in your bed at the ripe old age of 256! And you were ooooold!"

"I know, right? But it looks like the impossible has become possible. Drop by Coredia City when you can. We've got a lot to do, little buddy." Ness grinned, ruffling Joshua's hair.

"Hey!" Joshua pouted.

"We are gathered here," Bahamut began, ignoring Joshua's protests at being treated like a little kid by his previous incarnation. "To discuss the matter of most import plaguing our universe."

"Those cracks." Joshua said, getting back into business. "Those looked bad."

"Yes. They are as bad as they look. Worse, even." Hagoromo nodded. "They are but symptoms of the larger problem before us. A problem that will doom us all, even us deities, if we don't correct it."

"Pandora's Box. Never thought it'd open." Apris sighed. "I can't imagine what possessed the perpetrator to open it. Curiosity? Nihilism? Whatever the case, the Elemental Nations will surely fail if it tries to fight alone."

"That's not all. All the prophecies have been broken, and all the divine soothsayers have gone mad." Bahamut informed them. "There is now no guide at all to how to repair this. We can repair the cracks, but even if we could, they will just reform if we don't find a way to close the Box and punish the perp."

"Then what can we do?" Avatar Joshua asked. "I don't even know if I've got the power to save us all!"

"That's because this job is too big for any of us." Ness said. "We will have to gather everyone we can find, stomp the little problems with troops and fleets, and throw our most powerful forces at the big ones. The only hint we've got is that we're definitely sure that the source is somewhere beyond Allanean space."

"But there is hope, even in all this despair." Hagoromo grinned. "We deities have to band together, pool our powers and achieve what we could not alone. So do you mortals. That is where you come in, young Avatar."

"Me?" Joshua asked.

"Yes." Bahamut nodded. "There are...probabilities within the chaos. Such probabilities will be difficult to achieve, but you are the one destined to do what must be done. You must gather the might of the nations and bring an end to this chaos. But you cannot do this alone and I will not send you without aid. First, do you remember your old friend Travis?"

Joshua's eyes widened and grinned. "Yeah! He's the one who tried to save me back in Midgard."

"You will need a Nakama to join you and I can think of no better than the friends who risked everything to save those children." Bahamut smiled. "You will find their powers restored, though we had nothing to do with it, I'm afraid. Part of the chaos of probabilities, apparently, but I digress. Once you have gathered that Nakama, you must go to Eos. Help the Prince of Light and the Oracle vanquish the Starscourge...and what's this? A blade of golden light? Interesting. Apris, Spirit King. A conference, if you please."

Joshua and Ness scratched their heads in confusion as the deities started conversing amongst themselves. There's lots of exclamations of surprise and thoughtful humming.

Hagoromo turned to the boys. "Avatar. We have an opportunity. There is, astonishingly, another Coredia that have suddenly appeared in this sector of space. The one with the Golden Blade is connected to this other. He is a boy, like yourselves, a young Knight. With these Coredias joined forces, you may just win this war."

"Commence an alliance with these two Coredia. Gather an alliance among the nations affected by this catastrophe." Apris added. "Then go and bring an end to this madness."

"I will go and gather the deities of those lands. We will gather together a force mighty enough to heal the universe." Bahamut said. "God and mortal, we will fight a battle unlike any other and with luck, we will end this threat once and for all."

"But you must act quickly. Even now, a crisis looms. The Great Devourer has arrived and begun to feed on Coredia's border worlds." Hagoromo warned Joshua. "Should the Devourer absorb you into its being, it will be the end of Coredia. Escape those monsters as soon as you awake."

"I will do all that, my Lords." Joshua said, determination in his hands. "I will succeed and bring balance to the universe."

"Good. Now, wake up, boy!" Hagoromo's ringed eyes began pulsing. Joshua found himself pulled by an unseen force.

"Don't forget! Get the Nakama and make a stop at Coredia City!" Ness yelled as they all faded from his sight.

"I won't!" Joshua yelled.

He fell a long, long way...and suddenly woke up, finding himself in the base's hospital bed. He noticed a storm outside the windows. "Oh...I did that. Man! I need to control it better!"

"You're awake!" A nurse appeared. "Are you all right, Avatar?"

"Yes, I am. I know what I need to do now." Joshua said. "First, I need my clothes. Next, I need to speak with Lieutenant Deadman. Now."

"Yes, Avatar." The tone of the Avatar's voice brooked no argument and she ran to get his clothes.

Reflecting on his meeting with the gods and his last incarnation, one thing Joshua knew for sure. Things were about to get a lot more interesting than he ever imagined...

[Allanea]

Jason knew the importance of the visit immediately, before he even read the parchment. Ordinarily a visitor from Allanea would enjoy a rather lengthy greeting, but in cases like these some of the niceties were dispensed with in case the matter being brought to the Emperor was time sensitive.

As Jason read the parchment, one of his eyebrows rose slightly. To someone who knew him well, it was a telling reaction... he might as well have jumped through the ceiling. But the Guardsman didn't know him well (though Jason vaguely recognized him, as if he had seen him guarding Alexander at a diplomatic event or something once), and was therefore probably surprised by the lack of reaction.

"We'll have to take a brief trip to get the requested item," he told the Guardsman. "Come with me."

They traveled to the House of Lore via teleportation... time was, after all, of the essence. There they met the curator of artifacts, Maximillian, who presented them with the Horn. Jason watched as the Guardsman put it in the case and then vanished, the Word Of Recall working as it was supposed to. Then he turned back to Maximillian and met his multicolored gaze. "Reach out to the usual suspects," he said. "War might be coming to Olwe."

As the Guardsman received the mighty artefact, he saluted Jason and Maximilian. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.” - he said simply. “Alexander Blaken-Kazansky surely will not forget your assistance.”

He locked the artefact in the steel briefcase, and then read out the scroll and vanished in a flash.

A second later, he was on a pier in Liberty-Harbour. Even with the advanced magic used, to be yanked so rapidly across such a vast distance was a shock to him. As the rain lashed him, the Guardsman fell to one knee, his clothes becoming soaked within an instant.

“Sshit.” - he swore, as the water poured down his face and into his eye. “That’s what I am missing now, a fucking rainstorm.” - he squinted into the distance, where the lights of the Kazansky Heavy Industries docks were glowing. Something strange was happening there - a vast, unimaginable mass protruded from one of the drydocks, extending upwards like a mountain. Where searchlights fell onto the mass, it was obvious that it was red, like a dagger painted in fresh blood.

Down the pier, down the promenade, towards the docks, ran the Guardsman. A lesser man would have slipped and stumbled many a time on the slick, wet stones, but he was not that lesser man. He ran, his heavy combat boots finding a near-perfect grip on the stone. Every second was of the essence.

[Allanea]

[written jointly with the lovely player of Coreworlds

Gaia-Midgard System

Time was of the essence, this much was known.

Hyperspace, even hyperfold travel, would not suffice.

Only one method of travel could suffice.

Only one was fast enough.

One that few ships yet had.

Based on a technology purchased recently from the Twelve Colonies in exchange or the dark secrets that Ayliah Mercine had granted the Allaneans, it was called the Mercine Drive. It combined a space-folding drive and a high-power computer capable of rapid precision calculation. At the push of a button, adjustments were made to the fabric of space-time itself, and a ship simply was there. There were issues, of course, dangers, disadvantages - but now was not the time.

And so, the ship was not in Earth Orbit, and it suddenly was in orbit of Gaia-Midgard. It was a small, diplomatic yacht, but it carried not a diplomat, but a pair of black-clad guardsmen of the Emperor’s personal guard. As it entered orbit, one of the guardsmen spoke to the ship’s computer:

‘Computer, hook me up with the Shin-Ra company headquarters. Open a video transmission.’

‘Connecting.’

When the men on the other side accepted the call, they could see a black-clad, uniformed man in a black beret facing them, his eyes a piercing green, his hair black, with only a single strand dyed a radiant blue. Defying most kinds of military discipline, he had a small sapphire earring in his left ear.

“Greetings, honored beings.” - he said.

“Greetings. What brings you to our fine system?” Came the man on the other side.

“Sir, I will be brief.” - the Guardsman said. “I am Lieutenant Nicholas Jacoby, with the First Own Personal Assault Regiment. I represent the affairs of Alexander Kirillovich Blaken-Kazansky, CEO of Kazansky Heavy Industries.” - he did not, curiously, list off Alexander’s titles as Emperor and King. “I come in connection with the current international emergency.” - he also did not explain which emergency was ongoing. There was no need.

“Ah, yes. The Diplomatic Corps has already explained everything.” The man said. “Please, make your way to Docking Bay #1138 on the surface.”

A transponder signal activated, showing the ship in question where the docking bay was.

The ship began to descend, and while it descended, the Guardsman already began to explain.

“You may be aware that the First Own Personal Assault Regiment has a special legal status. Rather than an Army unit, it’s actually funded by Mr. Blaken-Kazansky’s proceeds from his various ventures. I am present here not so much as an Allanean representative, but as a representative of Mr. Blaken-Kazansky personally. You see...” - he paused “Mr. Blaken-Kazansky is enough of a patriot that he is willing to act rapidly, unconventionally, on behalf of his alliance and all mankind, at his own expense and outside the purview of Congress... though of course this places certain limitations on us as well.”

As these words were spoken, the ship entered the atmosphere and began to descend rapidly.

“It is of the absolute urgently that we act now. We have carried on this ship the full payment to your organization, and are willing to discuss additional forms of support, should we get the item we require.”

“Very well, then. I am glad to say that we do indeed have the item in question. It is quite valuable and we hope we can come to a prosperous end for both of us. But come, let us offer you a bit of our hospitality. Time is of the essence, this we know, but a few minutes to spare would not be amiss, I trust?” The man on the other side said.

“Sir, I think you don’t appreciate the importance of this issue.” - the Guardsman replied. “I am of course willing to engage in negotiation, but if you wish me to stay here for some manner of official entertainment, drink tea with you, go to the Opera, the ship will have to go on without me. I hope you understand.”

“We understand your concerns and for the sake of the matter at hand, we will dispense with the pleasantries. Truly, time is of the essence. Very well. Then I, Lord Commander Sephiroth of the ShinraCorps Peacekeepers welcome you to Gaia-Midgard.”

The Guardsman is treated to a beautiful sight of a pair of massive planets and several moons orbiting each other in an intricate dance of planetary alignment. It is said that when the two planets come close enough, the atmosphere exchange creates a wild series of storms that only the bravest traverse. Naturally, it’s a big sport in Coredia to travel from one planet to another with little more than a protective suit and a lot of guts. In the meantime, the ship is ushered down to the more technologically advanced planet, filled with a massive cityscape that covered a good percentage of the planet. There, it docks at the main spaceport of Midgard, a bustling place of activity filled with all manner of beings.

When the ship lands, a pair of Peacekeepers await the Guardsman, clad in professionally cut navy blue uniforms adorned with armor and a helmet, with swords strapped by their side and assault rifles on their back. When the Guardsman comes out, he is greeted by the two as they slapped their right fist against their left breast in a salute.

“Wedge.” “Biggs.” The two simply said in announcement. The one called Wedge spoke. “We are here to escort you to our Lord Commander. This way, please.”

A short walk later, the Guardsman is ushered into a black luxury car that started heading towards the massive ShinraCorp Headquarters. It is the tallest skyscraper in a sea of skyscrapers, and giant letters travelled down its side, explaining very clearly that this is ShinraCorp. The car then descends into a massive parking space and very soon, the Guardman is ushered through the white hallways of the company headquarters and into a conference room.

In this conference room, two men and a woman are seated, with tea cups placed before them. The first man is a man wearing a luxury cut business suit with close-cropped hair and a scar down one eye, though it didn’t seem to affect his eyesight. The second is a man with long, silver hair and a leather overcoat over a black kimono and pants, with silver shoulder pauldrons on each shoulder. The woman sports a long pair of bangs on each side of her beautiful face and a tight bun on the back of her hair with a white hairclip keeping it in place. She also wears a white kimono with snowflake designs that if one knew the Elemental Nations well enough, would give a hint as to her lineage as a member of the ice-elemental Yuki-Onna Clan.

“Welcome to ShinraCorp, my friend.” The close-cropped hair man said. “I am President Rolf Shinra, the president of ShinraCorp and the ruler of the Gaia-Midgard System. With me are the Diplomatic Corps Captain Haku Yuki-Onna and the Lord Commander Sephiroth of my Peacekeepers. We are the ones you will speak with concerning these negotiations. Have a seat and let’s get down to business as requested.”

“That is excellent.” - the Guardsman said, sitting down. He was of course armed too - his weapons chosen in such a way as to clearly indicate he was not unarmed, but clearly also he was not here to start a fight. A military pistol on one hip and a gladius on the other were all the weapons the Allanean had on his person. “Now, let me get straight to business. Resting in that starship, guarded by my partner, are ten tons of natural, non-fabbed, gold, certified as such by three separate appraisers. Moreover,” - he said, “I have this.”

It was not clear where the object had come from, and yet Lieutenant Jacoby was holding it now in his hand. It was an armored glove, its material black, seeming to shimmer somewhat as it was laid down on the desk.

His face was stony as the armor glove hit the table with a clank.

“This is a glove off the Emperor’s Command Armor. It is the only one... well, technically, one of two of its kind. You may ask, what would you do with a single glove?” - he paused “Nothing, really, a single glove is useless. The material of the glove, however... that, my friends, is worth more than a piece of Summon Materia. Perhaps it is worth more than your entire company.” - he paused again. “Well, no, the material is not. The knowledge of it however, that is a different matter. It is not made by Allaneans. It is made by a civilization long gone, as a gift to Mr. Alexander Blaken-Kazansky. It is made of Central Facehuggerian Living Metal.”


The Diplomatic Corps Captain showed no open surprise, though there was a raised eyebrow of surprise on Shinra’s face and even the Lord Commander showed a little interest. Haku replied for the other two. “Intriguing. A metamaterial from a long-dead civilization. A valuable piece of knowledge indeed, but what exactly is this metal’s properties?”

“Oh, the usual.” - the Guardsman said. “Comprised of smart nanoparticles, heals when damaged, extremely strong and flexible, it was used by Central Facehuggeria for a variety of purposes - armor, weapons, tanks, starships. The famous battleplates were built of it, as were their combat suits. Its use was not without dangers as you know - sometimes the computer swarms became too smart, for instance. But as its use by Central Facehuggeria demonstrates, there are also many advantages.”

“Interesting. The Science Corps will certainly seek uses for this material.” Captain Yuki-Onna said. “Is that everything you have to offer in exchange for our item?”

“Ah, not quite. There is also, a favor of sorts.” - the Guard said, his face stony. “I understand that your civilization still uses Mako Reactors?”

“Well, not quite. We’re working on switching to more viable sources of energy.” President Shinra said. “But we still have the institutional knowledge to build them. Do you wish to acquire some as part of this favor?”

The Allanean smiled. “No, that wouldn’t be an issue. Rather, Mr. Blaken-Kazansky is willing to assist you with cleaning up the damage that these fucking awful things do to the environment. He’s also going to arrange for medical treatment for persons who have been harmed by them, in nations where the institutional knowledge exists. Is this a fair trade for your item?”

The three Coredians shared looks. President Shinra said nothing for a while, closing his eyes, then nodded. The Lord Commander nodded as well.

“Yes, this is a fair trade considering the value of our Master Summon Materia.” Captain Yuki-Onna nodded. “One Master Summon Materia in exchange for...ten tons of gold, one glove made of Facehuggerian living metal and assistance in cleaning up Mako Reactor damage and medical treatment from the same. Yes, that is a fair trade.”

And with that, the deal is made. Captain Yuki-Onna weaved her hands together in a series of rapid patterns and then pressed her hand on the table. A small cloud of smoke appeared, revealing a small chest. The chest opened and a red orb the size of a baseball was shown to the Guardsman.

“It may not look like much, but this is our Master Summon Materia, harvested in a very dangerous corner of our world.” President Shinra said. “Use it well.”

“Thank you.” - Jacoby said, receiving the chest and closing it carefully. “Now I must be on the move. There is a world to be saved.”

[New Dornalia]

Tunnels of Hestia

Adrienne had little time to digest the quick history lesson given by the confused and none too pleased Allaneans before the creature attacked in full force. The charging beast merited but one reply from Adrienne.

"Well."

Gritting her teeth, Adrienne loaded her WInchester with a fresh stripper clip of 7.62x54R and fired two shots at center mass, all with rapid, swift succession. She figured the beefy 7.62 cartridge would do some damage, even as she acknowledged to herself that was a slim possibility, given the ferocity of the beast seeking to assert its dominance over the small party and the fact that the Allaneans' own weapons really didn't seem to be a deterrent. Just in case

As she did so, Adrienne began to move backwards towards a small alcove and a door she had spotted earlier on. In turn, she shouted for the Allaneans to follow her, adding a hearty "GO!" as she fired a third shot.

Whatever the Allaneans did, she would be focused on running backwards to the door and alcove, leading the Allaneans to the alcove as she ignited another petrol bomb and tossed it at the creature, setting it alight. As she kept one eye on the creature and one eye on the door, Adrienne focused on getting the door open. She punched in keycodes, swiped a random card, and even used the butt of her Winchester on the door in sheer frustration, screaming more cuss words in her Michif tongue.

The panic would pay off, for the door swung open in dramatic fashion. She then, realizing the creature was coming, shoved them inside the room and shut the door behind her. The creature could be heard banging and howling outside, and Adrienne said, as she began piling detritus to buttress the door, "Okay. There should be a ladder leading into some vents, if I remember this room correctly. If I remember this section of the tunnels, you go into the vents, take a left, and then drop down out of them. Leads to a relatively safe area where we can discuss things in peace. I may have stashed some munchies for us there and some potable water I got from one of the local colonies. Assuming the Bastards didn't get to the supplies first."

The banging and roaring lead Adrienne to suggest, with some topical sarcasm, "Let's make a decision either way, fellas. The door ain't going to hold forever."

[CoreWorlds]

Mobile City Coredia, Elemental Nations of Coredia

In the Elemental Nations, the Mobile City Coredia stands alone as Coredia's finest achievement. Conceived as a megaproject to celebrate the formation of the alliance between the United Shinobi Nations, the Coredian Republic, the Shogunate of Tatsu, the Kingdom of the Spirits, Terra, Tetragenesis, Roak and Expel into the Elemental Nations by the 100th Emperor Akira and formally opened during the tenure of the 105th Empress Mei Ling, the Mobile City is a gargantuan space station that looks superficially like one of those hollowed-Earth stories, only with the surface being a thick crust of protective metametals and riddled with all manner of space defenses. One end of this moon houses a large bulb that contains the vast engineering section that includes the Triple FTL System, powerful sublight engines, immensely powerful shielding and sensor net, weather generation devices, among other technologies used to keep the Mobile City healthy.

Long centuries of use has grown the Mobile City from the humble origins as the spacebound capital city to a world of its own, a hollow Earth of sorts where millions of people live and work, and where powerful magic has transformed the interior into a vast world with its own biomes, including an entire ocean complete with a kilometers-deep network of hydrothermal vents designed to keep the chemophiles under the sea happy.

Yet today, it is even more of a hive of activity than it usually is, as the Elemental Nations undergoes its most serious test since the Eldritch War. First, some boy proclaiming to be Avatar Ness appears out of nowhere in contravention to all sense and logic and the laws that govern the Avatar's being, despite having died twelve years previously. Originally, the Imperial Guard laughed him off and told him to stop playing games. Then he activated his State, revealing the truth.

A quick word with the Shogun -who happened to be one of his former apprentices- and Avatar Ness cloistered himself into one of the meditation chambers to find out what the hell was going on.

Then the first of many reports of what was coming to be called the Great Madness came from the Imperial Guard Captain, Captain-General Lance Wataru.

"Sire, we've lost contact with the Lucians and the Emperor. We think the Niflheim Imperial Army are jamming us with their magitek ECMs. Just before the ECMs went up, we received reports that they attacked as soon as the barrier over Insomnia fell." General Wataru reported to the Shogun.

"Call in reinforcements from the Internal Security and Light Infantry Corps to break their forces. I thought we destroyed them at Tenebrae, but it's clear that they've been plotting revenge. Find out how they've recovered so quickly. I am hereby authorizing the Imperial Guard Corps to use all available methods ensure the King and the Emperor's safety. Should the King or the Emperor or spirits forbid, both fall, you are to ensure the line of Caelum remains intact by any means necessary. That is a priority. As soon as you secure the monarchs, you are to combine forces with the local Kingsglaive and Crownsguard for a counteroffensive into Niflheim territory to remove the enemy leadership from power. Orbital bombardment is authorized. Biju and Kaiju summoning is authorized. Collateral damage is acceptable. In short, break Niflheim on your knees for good for daring to break the peace of the Elemental Nations." The Shogun replied smoothly.

"Yes, sire." The Imperial Guardsman bowed and his hologram disappeared, only for another to appear, this time of Admiral Makoto Minamoto, head of the Naval Corps.

"Sire, we're receiving incursions from an enemy our database registers as Tyranids. They've suddenly appeared out of nowhere, bypassing our Sensor Net and they're making a beeline for Vanguard and several underdeveloped civilizations in the Ise sector. We're looking at an entire Hive Fleet bearing down on us, billions of warships. They're not very fast, but they can still overwhelm us and break through our border worlds if we don't hold them at that sector!"

"The Avatar." The Shogun narrowed his eyes. "Very well. Send in the Fifth through Twelfth and Twenty Fifth through Thirty First Fleets to repel those Tyranid hordes and you are authorized to unleash the Dreadnoughts Oathbreaker and Kingslayer and the Battlestations Zeus, Krishna and Amun-Ra."

"Very good, your Grace." Admiral Minamoto bowed. "The Faerie Courts are alerted to the situation and are preparing to evacuate the planet. Lieutenant Deadman of the Secret Corps has also reported in and he requests evacuation as well."

"Contact Captain Namikaze and Captain Woltar. The Scout and Secret Corps has the fastest ships. They should be able to get the Avatar and the Lieutenant's forces in and out quickly enough and they have the firepower to back up the fleets if necessary." Shogun Shishio ordered. "You may contact those civilizations and offer your aid against the Tyranids. If all hope is lost, you are authorized to sterilize those underdeveloped worlds to deny the Tyranids biomass, but consider that a last resort. In all cases, the Avatar is to be secured at all cost."

"As the Shogun wills." Minamoto nodded and disappeared from view. Then yet another call came into the command center.

"Captain Shuichi Masaki." The Shogun said as he recognized the ponytailed figure of the young man in charge of the Stealth and Intelligence Corps. "What do you have on the overall situation?"

"After consultation with the Science and Maho Corps, I can come to a preliminary conclusion. Our seers have reported that the legendary Pandora's Box has been opened, releasing all its ills onto the universe, although we aren't sure where the Box was opened yet. We are not alone in this situation. My men and women report that New Dornalia, Allanea, and several other nations in the galaxy are also experiencing major dimensional disruptions. I have heard reports of past enemies and assorted eldritch horrors launching attacks, as well as the usual suspects of assorted alien menaces attacking weakened planetary systems. As one of the premier supernatural nations in the galaxy, our scientists and sages estimate that we, too, will incur a great conflict. Our history is full of monsters and any one of them, or indeed, all of them could arrive at any time. I strongly suspect it will be as bad as the Eldritch War, especially if there are repetitions of the battles from that war, or earlier conflicts."

"Mmm." The Shogun mulled the implications. This is bad. The Eldritch War nearly broke us as a nation and we only just recovered from it. A Second Eldritch War will be terrible for us all...

"There's more, sire." Captain Masaki sighed. "Internal Security reports that our maximum security prison has been broken open and our worst prisoners have escaped, killing every guard they could find in the process. This includes Kefka, ExDeath, the Red Devil, Sage Miroku, Luther Lansfield, General Nod-Yan, Emperor Mateus, Warlord Garland -pretty much every a who's who list of every murderer, rapist, traitor, genocider, mundicider, and assorted other bad news we captured over the years- and every one of the horrors from the Eldritch War we imprisoned in there, including Alpha and Omega."

"By the Sages." Shogun Shishio rubbed his forehead in dismay. "Is there no end to this madness?"

"Rest assured, we'll bring them all to justice." Captain Masaki said firmly.

"I have no doubt about that. Contact your father the Daikage. We'll need his expertise in dealing with this mad force and you'll need the Shinobi reinforcements. I'm authorizing release of our Class S Containment and Class S Extermination Procedures, and you will have every resource available. Be sure to call up any other Corps you need to contain the situation. Spare no expense in bringing them to justice."

"As the Shogun wills." Captain Masaki bowed. "There is one more thing. It is good news, however. We have received reports from the United Shinobi Nations and other locations that several legendary figures have appeared among the living once more. The First and Second Hokages and Madara Uchiha are among them. Also, it appears that my brother and his little friends have regained their powers. Apparently, this reality disruption brings good tidings as well as bad."

"Interesting. Three thousand nine hundred years have passed since their time. Ensure the Kages brings the legends up to speed and see if they're willing to aid us however they could and return the youngsters to active service. Reassign them to...hmm. The Secret Corps, Avatar's Lotus Squad. Send them to escort the Avatar out of the way of the Tyranids."

"My brother and his friends will be pleased." Shuichi smiled at the thought.

"The youths have talent. Let's see them bloom." The Shogun nodded. Then he raised his voice to the Command Center. "Due to the severity of the situation, I am hereby declaring an S-Ranked Emergency Situation. All senior Academy Initiates will be immediately promoted to Genin and assigned to a Corps. All internal forces are federalized into the Military Corps. As indicated in the regulations for Class-S Emergencies, Captain-General Touma Shinichi is in overall command of all internal military forces. Daimyo Kaworu Nara will be in overall command of the situation."

"Looks like my brothers will be assigned together for the time being." Captain Masaki commented. "I'll cut the orders on my end, sire. May the spirits guide us in these times."

"May the spirits guide us." The Shogun echoed. Captain Masaki bowed and disappeared from view.

The Shogun then received one final notice from the Diplomatic Corps Captain. "How did it go, Captain?"

"It went well. Their man, equivalent to our own Imperial Guard was a professional. In and out, and what they gave us should keep the Science Corps busy for a while. I will send the report as soon as possible. Whatever they will do must be powerful if they came seeking for our Master Summon Materia." Haku Yuki-Onna replied.

"Very good. You have new orders. Contact the Dornalians and the Allaneans and see if they'll be up for a joint task force and see if they have contact with any other nation in need of assistance. It's clear the situation will require everyone to join forces or assuredly, we'll all fall apart. Inform them of our Tyranid situation and see if they'll lend a hand."

"As the Shogun wills." Haku bowed as she received her orders. "There is one other thing. We have just receive a message from General Akihito Masaki. He informs us that another Coredia has just come into existence thanks to this crisis and he requests a fleet from each of our major worlds to quote, 'show these other Coredians the full glory of the Elemental Nations', and backup from the Naval Corps, Secret Corps, Scout Corps and Diplomatic Corps' First Contact Division in light of the situation in their own nation. From what he says, this is same Coredia that was considered lost by the Dornalians and the same one who's history is now in our archives. They have also sent a message of their own, proclaiming their return and asking for assistance for their own crisis. It appears that an old adversary of theirs, the Shivans, have attacked their outlying systems. They are a considerable foe, from what I can gather."

"This is the madness that never ends." The Shogun exclaimed, rubbing his forehead in annoyance at the situation. "Very well. Send the General what he needs to support this other Coredia. It seems we have another potential ally and we would be remiss in lending a hand in need. He will command the Battlestation Odin to ensure the full destruction of these Shivans."

"As the Shogun wills." Captain Yuki-Onna bowed, then disappeared as well.

The Shogun closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. Then he gave one last order. "Call a press conference. It is time to address the nation."

-----

All across the Elemental Nations, news stations suddenly changed to the Seal of the Shogunate, alerting all citizens that the Shogun was about to speak. Then televisions and holovisions recorded a live video of a very handsome older man with long hair tied back in a tail, and battle armor adorned on his person. Strapped to his waist is his sword, the legendary blade Godslayer that he wields in combat.

"Greetings, citizens of the Elemental Nations and citizens of the galaxy at large. It is understood by the Shogunate that we have suddenly come under assault by a strange and terrible force unlike any other. We have seen old friends and adversaries walk anew. We have seen outlying territories come under attack by a ravenous alien force. We have even seen reports of opportunists seeking to disrupt our galactic community and sow discord and chaos everywhere. But rest assured that the Shogunate is doing all it can to respond to the crises and restore order to the Elemental Nations.

Having consulted with the Chancellor and with the Military Corps, I am declaring an S-rank Emergency for the entire Elemental Nations. All citizens are to report to their designated disaster stations. All Military Corps reserves are to be called to active service, including the senior year of our Academies. All forces are raised to Class S War Alert. It is clear that we are threatened by nothing less than a situation that demands all of us, from the lowliest citizen to the highest lord to lend a hand to each other and to the galaxy at large. Rest assured that we will also locate the Emperor and the King of Lucis and we will do all we can to bring justice to the foolish opportunists who took advantage of the situation at Eos. To that end, the Elemental Nations formally declares a state of war against the Empire of Niflheim, to be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible.

Make no mistake. This is a crisis on the level of our recent Eldritch War and we cannot back down, nor shall we give up in ensuring the safety and security of every citizen in the Nations. So it is necessary for every citizen to do their part to ensure the protection of the whole.

While we do not know how long this crisis will last, be assured that it will end and we will recover. We will rebuild what was broken. We will revive the lost. We will bring whoever opened Pandora's Box to justice and we will ensure that this crisis never, ever happens again. That is the promise of the Elemental Nations.

To our allies and friends in the galaxy, to the newcomers who have just come onto the galactic scene, it is increasingly clear that we cannot face this crisis alone, nor should face it so alone. Coredian. Dornalian. Allanean. And all other nations of the galaxy. We must gather together, pool our resources, plan a course of action as a galactic community, for assuredly, we shall all hang together or we will fall separately.

It is time to join forces. It is time to face this threat as one. It is time to answer the Allanean call to arms and build a great alliance to turn back this tide of darkness. It is time to light the beacons of hope so that when the galaxy call for aid, we, the civilized nations shall answer. Nothing less than our very best effort shall be brought towards resolving this crisis.

I look forward to speaking with my counterparts in New Dornalia and Allanea to chart our course of action in the near future, but for now, we must bring an end to the scourge of Tyranids and Shivans and all other evils that have begun to consume our galaxy. Aid is always welcome to destroy these foes, and in turn, the Elemental Nations will lend our aid wherever it is required.

As always, keep the light of our souls shining, so that the darkness will never succeed. Thank you, and may the Spirits guide us always.

[Dyste]

The Armageddon, Shores of Undellah, Dyste

---

Tyroth, the Dark King of Dyste, relished in watching the carnage his demons wrought onto the foolish soldiers, praying to their false god as they struggled in vain against his servants. Oh, this was even more fun than he had hoped. Humans were the most arrogant species he had ever come across, so sure of their mediocre abilities, unable to see how insignificant they were to the world as a whole. “There is no King here but me. If you are willing to surrender, I can be merciful and you can lead a life of servitude under me. I just hope you are not as stubborn as the elves were. Such a pity what happened there…”

Before he could continue, though, another warrior entered the field, some screaming lunatic who thought he was some sort of toad-oni. He rolled his eyes, “Oh, please, are you supposed to be some holy warrior? I have dealt with Paladins in the past. Now, put your little blade away and allow the grownups to-” He was unable to continue as he was flung back by Masamune’s assault, caught-off guard by his own gloating. Perhaps this samurai wasn’t as worthless as the others.

When the Legionary tried to fire, he used his short-range teleportation and warped behind them, slashing at some hapless soldiers, before pointing his blade at Masamune. “Very well… Masamune, was it? I admit, that was a good blow. I suppose you ARE worth something after all. Perhaps you would like to face me in combat? If so, we may need a little change of venue. Or we could just stay here as I slaughter your men one by one. Samurai, I am not a patient individual, so I recommend you choose wisely. And I do promise you death; unlike my offer of servitude to this Emperor, I know better than to keep someone like you alive.”

---

As the storms raged on the mainland, the orcs led their charge against the ground forces. While in some places they claimed orcs looked like bulky green-skinned humanoids, the orcs here looked more like upright pigs. As one of the only species willingly serving the Draconids, they were given a larger amount of autonomy and prestige in the Dark King’s domain. They were supervised by Kel Darkfire’s own division of Fire Draconids. The Knight Commander was content with his role in supervising the ground troops, but when Kenshin came to challenge them, he welcomed the opportunity to test his lance. Holding out the fiery lance Gradvius, he braced for his attack. “Help me relieve my boredom, human warrior. They rest of you, get the plan ready.”

The remaining Draconids noticed the attack by the Columbians, and while some got hit, and a few of the orcs were shot down, they were able to erect a wall of fire to blunt their attack. The orcs made a charge at the soldiers, while from the rear, a new threat emerged. While there originally appeared to be sharks in the waters nearby, they turned out to be more than that. Emerging from the water at the Columbians’ rear guard, they engaged in a pincer attack with the orcs. The shark monsters were not completely immune to bullets, but they appeared to have some healing factor, and their bites could rend steel. If they were capable of speech or rational thought, they did not show it as they charged into the enemy lines.

Another Castle Dyste

---

Tyroth sat back in his chair, content that they were at least willing to listen to him. “I can see that many of you are thinking as to whether I could manage this problem myself. After all, chances are I am more powerful than all of you put together. But there are times when a group of people is superior to an individual, no matter how capable they might be. And, to be honest, I have little combat experience. I was trained by a wizard, not a knight or mercenary, and I never directly took the field of battle, unless it was for self-defence. I do not think I am well-suited to this role…”

Zoe looked at her husband with some concern. She knew that when they met, he was forced to kill the people who had imprisoned her, a fact that nearly caused him to break down. Feeling indebted to the future king, she vowed to make sure he did not have to resort to violent means. She didn’t like shedding blood, either, but she was willing to do so in order to protect her homeland and her love, who gave her a place when she had nothing to her name. “Tyroth, if you are too worried about what might happen, I can take over…”

Tyroth held up his hand, “No, Jade, I am fine. For my questions… I am interested in knowing about your capabilities in combat, what your training and skills are. Are you capable of using melee weapons in addition to firearms? A bit about your homeland would be nice as well. Also, if things go well, perhaps we can establish a trade agreement between our people? Naturally, we can wait until things get fixed, but I fear that with the current state that might take a while…”

After they talked for a while, the matter of the problem came up again. Tyroth was still a bit hesitant with this arrangement, but he needed all the help he could, and chances were by the time he found capable mercenaries they would be too late to stop some potential destruction. “You see, recently my people have been harassed by creatures we have not seen before this point, almost as if they had appeared from some summoning ritual. See, my golems are effective against enemy troops and normal threats, but these… they are quite ruthless, one of my subjects barely escaped with his life to bring me information. Apparently they come in many shapes and sizes, for example…” he created an illusion in front of his desk of what seemed to be a blue-and-gold wolflike creature, using electric powers. “That is just one of them. Now, I can supply you with some specialized armor and weapons of my design to help combat these, and if you are able to slay some of these, I can see what traits their hides have, maybe even enhance your weapons. So, how do you all feel about being monster hunters?”

[Imeriata]

Allanea, Rio de Janeiro, Kurzweil
"Blessed be thee your royal highness, Queen of Allanea! Squire lieutenant Mjelker at your royal highness service!" A voice called out in somewhat better Imerian than the one that had greeted the fortress of stone and bayonets as soldiers looked up over their own entrenched positions, there were some hints of suspicion, fear, and in some cases even hostility as the empress stood before them. Scanderans were well used to their own ways and the idea of Necromancers were not one they liked, the idea of women leading troops were also a bit worrying in their mind. However the Officer that rose up displayed none of those qualities as a short dwarf rose up behind him and followed the officer that had left the front lines. The man was rather handsome looking, tall and with long blond hairs as common for his race, his beard was well kept and covered his whole face but vanished under a thick bushy but curled Moustache. A sword covered in what could only be the creatures blood rested lazily on his shoulder apparently apathetic or unaware to how it coloured his half cloak that hung from the same shoulder. Quickly did the officer advance with a smile on his lips under the suspicious eyes of the Royal guardsmen behind him. Despite the suspicious eyes though did a loud cheer rose up from the defenders as most of the men rose up waving holy banners and icons in greeting for a fellow warrior. Mouth upon mouth greeted her cheering in various Scanderan languages.

"I am happy to welcome your royal highness to the forces of his grace commander Birger auf Sfartnäfe!" The officer continued as both him and his dwarf bowed in respect which seemed to put the soldiers somewhat to rest as they went back to those countless things that soldiers do when they are not actively being shot at but are still on high alert. Some dampened singing rose from the positions behind the two.
"Can I hope that this means that the enemy has at least been broken, Your royal highness? the officer added with a hint of disappointment in his voice as he seemed to try to catch more enemies trying to sneak up on them behind the empress.
"We were just about to begin a counter attack but we seems to have run out of enemies right here and now! A glorious charge to clear out the unholy filth, glory for the survivors and feast eternal for those that fall in glory and all that! Is that not right beardsworth?" he finished looking over his shoulder in the last statement to the dwarf at his side.

"not my name Sire, and aye, about to charge!"

"Well I am sure your royal highness still have some use of some manly paragons of chivalry just itching to give these unholy spawns of darkness what for! If your royal highness wished so could I escort your royal highness to the Duke Commander!" Melker asked finally looking at the queen with a cheerful smile on his lips.

---

Open Statement from the absolute royal federation of Imeriata and her realms

From: Lord Edward auf stjärnhelm speaker of the Royal Foreign relation advisory.
Regarding: The defence of what is righteous and holy.

---

Friends and brave fighters withstanding the onslaught of the vile forces that have perverted our blessed world, take heart for the absolute royal federation is taking up the holy torch of exalted march against this vile enemy, and as such will great holy armies be gathered by his royal highness, blessed eternally be his name, and sent out in glory against our foeman. Thus would the absolute royal federation officially offer full military support to all men of valour that fight in this good fight. Would any government from this moment on request our armed support against this scourge so will the federation oblige and send our warriors to do battle on your shores against this vile blight.

Take heart for the forces of the old realms are rallying once again and ready to take up our Scanderan burden to defend all that is right and good in the world.

---

Signed and approved by:
His royal Highness Primus rex Stjärnkhrone XIV silferföd by the grace of the gods high king of the absolute royal federation and divinely appointed ruler and unifier of the Scanderan races, the descendant of the first Imerian high kings especially and foremost Emanuel the first, Son of Oskar II, the son of Primus the XIIIth, the son of Emanuel the VIIth, the son of Gustav the IInd, the son of Anders the IIId, the carrier of the royal sword first carried by the demigod Belrion son of Bel, vanquisher of evil, Champion of life and light, defender of the living and vanquisher of the dead, liberator of slaves, breaker of chains, the protector of the federal crown jewels, the holder of the sword of Halmir and carrier of the enlightened torch of civilisation, patriarch of the noble house auf stjänkhrone, carrier of better and more important titles than the space Russians and the king of Old Tyrannia, Chief of chiefs, Shan of shans, Monarch of monarchs, Prince of princes, Crowned in steel, fire, and flowers. Flame of all flames, protector of the faith of the chronicles and the city of the burning rose and the arch cleric, leader of ritual and sacrifice, chosen of the fierce unconquerable sun and crowned in starlight, mortal protector of the faith of the two faced goddess and defender of her temples and chosen by all gods big and small. As well as the protector of the free city states of Ta’ka sha’mirias well as defender of Hungary and her regions and the realms as king of Imeriata and as such the king of salt, forest, river, and mountain, defender and autocrat of flodmarkerna, Sundet, Söderang, Söderberga, Innahafsarna, Aster öarna, Vast öarna, Sydvedian, Storfloden and the river king, king of Vedian and the duke protector of the mountains, Eple Halvøyn and lavlandet, king of Erathia and as that the duke of Ankea metsä and ruler of the thousand lakes, the lord and defender of Länsisola and Etelä-kentät, king of Karmanjaka over the ancient rivers river, from the ancient mountains mountain, king of Northern Taranakan, king of Chanjing, king of Nordomark, and king of Andervel but also the righteous and lawful king of New felandia and the king emperor of Dajing, the duke of Sydvinland, Northern Venezue, Sthalinge, Gustavsland and Sjöland, The Shah of the crown states of Ta’ka sha’miri and the Padishah of all of Ta’ka sha’miri, The lord regent of the colony of Nova Imeriata, Imerian Africa, Angland, the two peninsulas of Tvaude and of Somalmark, The Grand duke of Suderland, The prince of Isarna, Salmo, judeheim and Khan of Salonia, Sultan king of Ramir, the Emir of Sandland and Jarl of Salywa and the free city of Krakborg and Styrfastning, defender and lord of the city of Arkham and Sirmera, and further more the ruler of the federal terretories of Vastermark and the northern iceplains and as such high chief of Isfalten and keeper of Sfartmård , By the right of the constitution of the protectorate leopridaeria prince defender of leopridaeria, the high lord of Kalmer, Salmoborg and Gaseborg, Lord of the countless cities and lands under his most blessed and righteous rule, the lord defender of Imerbürg, Coparborg, Vesiki, Sjöborg, Afrikas fastning, Erikasborg, Nova Imerbürg, Wein, Udeborg, Angborg, Ambir, Nya Landborg, Nymarksborg, Sorgerstad, Anderborg, Nordanstad, Kängruborg, Sthalstad, Kängruborg, Judeborg, Moskstad, Daji, Sajing, Ademarksborg, Salem, Söderhamn, Öborga, Dragograd, Gapur, Bor-zut and Táibĕi but as well the Enlightened Emperor of Nicksyllvania and as such the King of Leazus, Emperor of Helman, Grand Prince of Zeth, Emperor of Japan, Emperor of Jungria, Duke and king of Hornet-Kereburos, Despot of the Great North, Grand Duke of the Western Badlands, Master of the Southern Marshes, and the king of Dragkon and the wielder of the Holy Swords, the Demon Sword Kaos, the Holy Sword Nikkou, and the Greatsword of the Empire, Nickiller, Great Protector of the Helman Wall and Majino Line, also by the right of his birth high marshal of the royal guard and the Imperial commander of the Imperial nicksyllvanian army, the grand commander of the federal order of the golden sword and the Nicksyllvanian order, the knight commander of the order of the golden cross and the order of Africa, the lord commander of the colonial order, the high commander of the federal order of the silver rose and the order of Scandera, the Taranakan order and the Order of Vinland may his reign last until the end of time and may the empire and federation he rules stand even through the flames of the endtimes to protect all of his royal highness subjects.

[Dyste]

Fire Drake Mountains, Dyste

---

While Tyroth, Jarl and Mishera were talking, Lissah was focused on getting the Drakonfethos members’ attention. Using a special ring devised by the Jarlsberg Institute, she could get in quick contact with the others and be able to send short messages. After a half hour of checking, the orcess want back to the king to give her report. “Your Majesty, Maizena is currently in the castle, and says she might be needed there to deal with possible foreign aid we might receive. Marron’s getting into contact with the rest of her ninja clan in order to get things rolling there.”

“Understandable,” Tyroth knew that while both of them would be helpful allies to have in this battle, there was more than just his own personal group to worry about. “Any others? What about Diega?”

“Well, I sent a message for Diega at the start, but I haven’t heard back from her. And there’s this one other signal I found, but it… I’m not sure why I managed to get a hold of THAT one, it hasn’t been active for ages…”

Lissah was about to continue when on the shores, a large figure leaped out of the water. Mishera went into a defensive position, but Tyroth patted her shoulder, “Ah, there she is. Like to make an entrance, hm, Diega?”

The individual walked up closer, making their features more clear. Standing at around 9 feet, they were taller than Lissah, and while not as bulky as the orcess was easily more heavily built than a human. Diega had the features of a humanoid shark, complete with dark grey skin, a fin on her back, and a finned tail. She wore a coat and tricorne reminiscent of a pirate’s with a red tunic and black and navy trousers, giving her more a look of a seafarer than a bodyguard. “You know it. Sorry for not getting back to you guys earlier, but I was helping deal with the Undellah attack. And here I was thinking lifeguard duty wouldn’t be as hard as pirating.”

Tyroth seemed a bit up, “But seeing as you could make it, seems like they repelled the attack. That is good, we can focus on other problems for now. Now, Lissah, did you say there was some other signal or the like that…”

The answer to that came just as suddenly as Diega did, as from behind Lissah appeared a nordic human woman wearing full plate armor. “Hillana Sword-Shatter, reporting for duty. … is something the matter? I’m not late, am I?”

Everyone stood in silence, before Lissah grabbed the Nord and gave her a hug, “Oh, Hillana! I thought you had left this world! I have not seen you in ages! Where have you been?”

Hillana enjoyed the hug, but seemed just as confused as everyone else, “What are you all talking about? We were sleeping at the fortress just this morning. I figured you had to meet the king in order to figure out what our next move against the Empire was. Why are you all doing the meeting here, anyways?”

Jarl had stayed mostly silent, observing this, but now he had gotten a grasp of what might be the case for this. He beckoned Tyroth to one side, “Your Majesty, I know you may be confused, but I believe I have an answer for you as to why one of your old recruits during our first encounter with Emperor Garland is here.”

Tyroth’s head was still hurting from this, “Well, I am glad SOMEONE does. Is this some sort of dimensional shift or something?”

The elven Sage shook his head, “No, this seems more of a temporal shift. Whether this is from the Horn or something else around here, it seems that some people are obtained from various points in their life. Either way, this is quite beneficial for us; after all, if Hillana is here, chances are the other members of that group are somewhere around here as well. They helped us deal with Garland the first time, chances are they can do it again now.”

Tyroth still felt there were further question to be asked about how this happened, but he felt the attacks were more pressing, and any help was needed. “Hopefully then we can find the other members soon; I mean, they could end up anywhere, the nearest one could even be hundreds of kilometres away…”

-----------------

At the foot of the mountainside, Teravel and Vaenia were busy scouting for more potential mechanical menaces, but it appeared for the time being, they were gone. Vaenia turned out of her bird form and landed near the Earth Draconid, “Well, looks like everything is clear, Tera. The two of you did a good job defending the northern end. Makes me wonder if you really need me at all…” Vaenia might’ve been a member of the Druid’s Circle and Drakonfethos, and did freelance work for the Inquisition at times, but even with all that prestige, she oftentimes felt weaker than her comrades. In pure physical strength, she was fairly strong but most Drakonfethos members outmuscled her, and both Teravel and Mishera were more skilled druids than her, due to their centuries of experience.

Teravel patted the young sylph on the head, “Come now, Vae, that is no way to feel. I am more than happy to have you help out. Besides, it took a lot of time for me and your mother to become half the druids Mishera was. With a bit more training, you may very well be our equal someday…”

“THERE you are, Tera!” another sylph said, appearing from the nearby forest. The blue-skinned, white-haired sylph was wearing a similar armor set to Mishera, but otherwise strongly resembled a more slender Vaenia with hazel eyes instead of brown ones, and for good reason, “C’mon, where did you get off to? You wanted to do this scouting operation with me, and then you head off in the opposite direction, what gives?! … and who’s that other sylph with you? Hey, you better not be trying to steal my girlfriend!”

Vaenia froze; no, it couldn’t be… “Are you… Sylvas Wintervale, by any chance?”

Sylvas scoffed, as if it was a no-brainer, “Well, yeah, who else would I be? Know of any other sylph sky druids around here? Tera, what’s going on here?”

Teravel was nearly bursting with joy, “Oh, hi, Sylvas! I am just here with your daughter! Come on, Vaenia, aren’t you happy to see her? … Vae?” Both of them were frozen in place as if hit with a paralysis spell, trying to process what happened. Tera didn’t seem bother at all, “Oh, come now, girls, let us head home and we shall deal with this! His Majesty will be happy to see you, he could use your help in dealing with Emperor Garland and his nasty minions!” She grabbed both sylphs, neither one in any shape to resist as they were taking back to their home in the mountainside. There would have to be a lot of explaining…

---------------------------

Clan Dragonlover Headquarters

---

The location of the ninja clan of Dyste was a well-kept secret, with only the clan members, their close family, and certain high-ranking government officials knowing of its exact location. Founded about fifty years into the country’s founding by the dwarf Javia Lightstone (who later took the clan name ‘Dragonlover’ as voted on by the then mostly kobold base of clan members), what was originally a ragtag group of kunoichi trainees had become a respectable and honourable ninja clan, protecting Dyste from the shadows.

Hinoka Dragonlover was a dwarf with grey hair tied with a ribbon, wearing a simple white kimono. While possibly the most skilled shinobi in the nation, she had often stayed in the background, training new recruits and taking only the missions she felt truly needed her level of skill. Today, she had mostly been coordinating the actions of the other clan members, waiting for their strongest member to arrive after she survived the attack on the Gungnir. After a few hours, she finally was face-to-face with her. “You’re late, Marron. Did you get lost on your way here? Or were you preoccupied with something else while we are in a crisis?”

Marron was a kunoichi like Hinoka, and was also descended from one of the founding members of the clan, but looking side-by-side, one could not tell they were even part of the same country, let alone clan. While Hinoka was pale with grey hair, Marron has brown skin and white hair. While Hinoka was short and slender, Marron was a large woman at six-and-a-half feet, with some weight on her. And while Hinoka was known for her skill as a ninja, Marron was sometimes referred to as the ‘powerhouse slob’ of the ninja clan, being immensely strong and tough and using it in full instead of the more subtle tactics of the clan. Not to mention their general personalities and outlook on their duties, “I’ll have you know, Hinoka… I was helping defend the kobolds while they retreated back to the castle. I got roped into some other stuff before I managed to get free to get back here. And His Majesty’s fine, I heard he and Lissah helped deal with some snake thingie and such.”

“I believe you mean ‘Marilith’, The Fiend of Fire” Hinoka was quick to correct her, “The Inquisition did a fine job holding it back. Our own job right now is getting information and taking on smaller forces; leave the big threats for the moment for the Military and Inquisition. We have to get to the root of things. A job I’m not sure your particular skillset is qualified to. Perhaps you should go back to guard duty, make the best use of your skills.”

Marron pouted; in spite of being Hinoka’s elder by a few centuries, since Hinoka was a direct descendant of the original founder, naturally the dwarf became the new clan leader. She knew she was doing what was best for Dyste, but she didn’t have to sound so patronizing of her abilities. “Fine, I see you don’t really want me here anyways. I’m such a bad influence on the kids, aren’t I?”

Hinoka seemed the frown a bit, but otherwise kept her cool, “Marron, you are free to be in the village any time, just so long as you try to remain even a bit professional. Perhaps even putting some clothes on once in a while, we do have plenty of uniform options available…”

“Come on, girls,” a third voice was heard, “No need to fight.” Appearing behind them was another dwarf, this one a bit more chubby than Hinoka, with blond hair and wearing a black-and-white kimono with the pattern of a cave flower. “Why not just kiss and make up? We’re all on the same side here.”

Marron excitedly leaped over and gave the dwarf a hug. Hinoka seemed a little less happy to see her; not because she disliked seeing her great-grandmother, but because she only showed up here either nowadays when she was looking to have some fun, or things were dire, “Master Javia, you grace us with your presence. I hope you are not just here to unwind…”

“Oh, we’ll have plenty of time to do that later,” the original founder said to her progeny, “But I heard rumors of some of my old friends showing up to help out, so why not me too? Just because I’m officially retired doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up my skills. Besides, Mishera’s probably getting lonely beating up demons without me!”

“Aw, you aren’t here to unwind?” Marron seemed disappointed; she loved to spend time with her mentor. “But if you’re here, there’s no way we can lose! Maybe I’ll even cut loose and let out my other self…” the Chionian ninja was a half-breed who mostly stuck to her elflike normal self, but when things were dire, she was capable of calling on strength from the other half of her parentage. Together with the two greatest ninja in Dyste, she felt they were capable of taking on anyone.

[New United States of Columbia]

Special Cathedral Heretic, Barony of Massachusetts

---

Inquisitor Oliver Adams looked out at the grounds of the Fortress, admiring the beauty of God's creation. As he was doing so he could smell the scent of the burning wax and wood from the various candles and torches. Tonight would be a night of great prayer, recitation of Scripture, and spilling of unholy blood. As he was examining the grounds he took note of the city of Boston far, far away from their regional headquarters, perched on one of the few remaining hills close to that ancient historic city. It had been built, destroyed, and built again in the long history of the Columbian Empire and the various wars it had been in.
He turned away from the window and examined the physical interior of the building, taking the time to scan every inch of it that he could. Brilliant large stain glass windows lined the walls, letting the moonlight light up the floor and room faintly with various hues of red, blue, green, brown, tan, gold, and purple from the various scenes and icons that were made there. He saw scenes of the Bible and Columbian history play out before his eyes: The casting out of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, the Sermon on the Mount, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the Four Horsemen, the moon turned to blood, the cross, large and grand and made of gold, and so forth. He also saw the seeming death of the Emperor and his rebirth at the hands of the Holy Order of Saint Anthony and his reconquest of Columbia from the hands of the foreigners.
He then turned his eyes downward and saw the grand hall filled with marble and granite floors, Roman collums, and fine wooden pews with a large central pulpit with a large gem studded Bible before it, opened to the Book of Saint Luke as they would be reading from that tonight.

Turning right he headed into one of the side halls and opened a large metal door. What looked like the entrance to an elevator turned out to be a large staircase leading down into the labyrinths underneath the colossal cathedral. Heading down he heard his boots tromp on the metal stars and heard the light human got machinery and saw it was light by large bright L.E.D. lights.
Finally leaving the staircase he was greeted with a large laboratory. Many computer console and monitors greeted him along with a blood stained tile floor and several operating tables that had fantastical creatures cut open and dissected laying upon them, dead and soulless eyes staring upward. He left and soon headed down several brown earth tunnels before heading into the Prisoner Holding Section. He was greeted with the high pitched whining of sonic dampeners, which appeared to be successful in blocking out the use of magic. After all, if one cannot think straight, then how can they use magic which required a lot of concentration. He quickly pulled out and plugged his ears with small soft ear plugs, thankful when the noise wasn't as sharp as it was a minute ago. He looked around at the containment fields, blocked with a red forcefields made out of titanium alloy that, along with other advanced technologies in them, created a stable photonicressonence barrier. Stopped most projectiles and creatures. Helpful as the HVT was a very powerful creature that, if escaped, could cause who knew what damage.

---

The same Prisoner Holding Section which would house a valuable prisoner, one whose abilities were very much the subject of attention by outside forces. Since the Great Cataclysm began, the Dornies had been keeping up and trying to play the part of heroes, as they often thought themselves to be. They had been helping the Allaneans, helping others...and now, they sought to help the woman being held captive inside one of many dimensional battlescapes. The Government of course, had heard much of this woman's abilities. They would need her to help battle the raging tide of the Cataclysm, and the skill set she allegedly had fit the bill.
Now, they had a team moving in to bust her out, courtesy of the Order of the Vanguards. The Order took an especially keen interest in this operation, and now, they got the honor of organzing it. With the help of ERIS of course, who had contributed the logistics of the operation.
The logistics would include three Pelican-Comancheros--cloaked versions of the Pelican which used gravitic drives to minimize radar and noise signatures. If the enemy below had the ability to detect chronotons or changes in gravitic fluctuation, they could spot the Pelicans. But that was not likely to be the case.
Inside the Pelican-Comancheros was the team which would rescue the HVT, designated as "Objective Daisy."
They were a typically Dornalian crew--comprised of men and women from all walks of life in the Republic, who looked impossibly good looking and impossibly cool. Especially the two women with aviator sunglasses and Multicam BDUs, over which a powered exoskeleton was superimposed. The Ordermen onboard, who wore powered combat vests, carried plenty of combat gear and even made use of miniaturized pattern buffers to store lots of gear, were slightly suspicious of the two. One of the Ordermen offered a snack to one of the women, who held her hand up and shook her head with a simple, "No thank you."
As the interior of cabin had "Long Tall Sally" playing onboard--a tradition among Dornie dropship pilots, it seemed--the pilot said, "Attention all pasengers onboard Air America Flight Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo. We are approaching your destination now. Make ready to teleport."
The leader of the team, a woman with wolf's ears and tail tucked under her uniform, shouted in a Russian accent, "Thirty SECONDS!"
The team got ready, abd before long, had teleported a safe distance from the cathedral into the Massachusetts countryside.
The party would eventually make its way into the Cathedral, through a side entrance into the grounds. So far, the team had the foresight to bring Stealthmen--superior wrist mounted portable cloaking devices--which they had overlaid with spells of concealability. Still, things would look somewhat crazy..especially with the robots.

---

As the Pelican-Comancheros crept into the grounds of the Fortress Monastery, they got a good look at the grand structure as they approached. It was truly remarkable engineering having constructed a grand cathedral in the ancient European gothic style. Large spiral towers containing bells and tiny rooms for sleeping towered above, seemingly like mini skyscrapers, potentially turning their thoughts heavenward. Iconography dotted the buildings as crosses, chi-ros, and eagles lined the top of the building. A giant round window contained a crimson red circle that had a large golden Celtic Cross in the center, giving an almost inviting look to the sober, serious, devout, and intimidating structure.

As they crouch walked their way to the building, they could hear a slight whir and turned to see a large metal door, far away from them open up and spit out several giant robots. These nine foot mechanical beasts carried heavy weapons with them, and their large red eye that vomited forth light, could easily see as if it were judging one to be worthy of death. They began to lumber forward, every stomp of their metal feet making the ground tremble slightly as they went forth, beginning their patrol of the grounds.

The Ordermen signaled to one another, and they moved into cover--well, what cover there was. The ERIS handlers working with the Ordermen bade them to stay their hand in case the enemy noticed their movements. Even with cloaking devices, a wrong move could spell disaster. When there were gaps in the patrols, the Ordermen and ERIS team moved quickly past their opponents. The goal? An entrance inside, one which would lead to the underbelly of the Cathedral.
The team moved, and hoped to God no one had seen the occasional shimmer. As they moved, they began to Forcemessage one another--that old art Dornalians practiced of sending psychic messages to one another. The team leader--the Russian woman from before--would message the others, and go simply, psychically, still in a Russian accent, "Stack up, and prepare to follow my lead. Sanchez, Korolev, Chiang, Nakayama, Paulson, to the left. Gurevich, Paulsen, Michaels, McClung, O'Connell--follow me and break right. Once we scout out the room, we'll find the service elevator." The others nodded, and moved to open the entrance quietly when they saw a break in the patrols. The idea of course, to rush everyone in before the robots noticed.

The combots did their usual patrol patter: They marched together to the front, and then split apart. Two covering the right half and two the left half. Occasionally they'd look left and right, their thermal sight and thermal sensors assisting them in detecting any intruder, invisible or not. As the Dornalians began to split up, one of the combots spotted them and raised an alarm. It turned, whirring coming from it as it quickly spun up it's Gatling Lasers, it's robotic voice booming and echoing all around them:
"INTRUDERS DETECTED! LEATHAL FORCE ENGAGED! KILL THE HERETIC! PURGE THE HEATHEN! BURN THE MUTANT! GLORY TO THE MOTHERLAND!"
The other combots, being alerted by the first combot, began to converge on it's position, also readying their miniguns, gatling lasers, and shoulder missiles.

---

"GODDAMNIT."
The Forcemessage from one of the ERIS operators could be heard loud and clear by the team as they were clearly, in the words of an old Earth expression, "Made"
by the enemy robots. As it turned out, it was perhaps not prudent to have opened a door in an actively patrolled secure installation when cloaked--the sight would have spooked even human guards. Now, the Dornies had to deal with the robots, and quickly. The ERIS Operators and Ordermen got behind cover in the hall, hiding behind pillars or pews as the killbots made their approach. The ERIS operators pulled out small, bluish grenades and tossed them at the killbots. If all went to plan, the bluish grenades would send out electromagnetic pulses designed to disrupt the killbots' movements. If it didn't outright fry their electronics for a mission kill, they would hopefully be disoriented enough for the Ordermen to finish them off with either magic powers or even the old ultraviolence.
Of course, the Ordermen prepared to fire, many of them preparing to use the magic which had been part and parcel of their training for years, and also the Kalashnikov rifles that each man and woman held. The Order's ceremonial weapon of choice--picked for its ability to "embiggen the smallest man," so to speak--it was usually paired with a lightsaber bayonet at the end. However, this time, the weapons would have an underbarrel contraption of some sort. Namely, a miniaturized proton torpedo launcher--40mm, but enough to do some damage.
Of course, they would only act if the ERIS operators's EMP grenades didn't do the trick in one go....

As the team ducked into the Main Hall, the combots sent out a signal that alerted the "underbelly" that intruders had been found and were attempting to infiltrate the fortress. Immediately alarms went off far below and Inquisitors began to gear up, grabbing laser rifles, plasma rifles, Gauss Machine Guns, Neutron Grenades, and various other gear. Some also chose to don their massive and bulky, but very hard to penetrate, Power Armor. The second they were geared up they left the same way the combots did: through the vehicle depot which was the only other way out aside from jumping through the windows, off the bell tower, or through the front door and gate.
As they began to run one of the power armor users, Inquisitor Jaun Melendez, gave an order over the radio on all frequencies: All Inquisitors deployed in the Barony were to return to the Fortress-Monastery immediately as they feared these intruders were after the HVT they codenamed "False Messiah".

---

At this point, the Dornalians turned off their Stealthman cloaks, and one of the ERIS Agents shouted at the team leader, "THis is the last Goddamn time I work with amateurs, Captain General Aisensthadt."
Aisenshtadt would only grit her teeth and ignore the remark, at least initially. In the meantime, she ordered the team, "Get moving! We need to get below!"
As Aisenshtadt said that, the Dornalians began to move. Fortunately, they had the sense to move in a calm, orderly fashion. As each group would move out of the main hall, the other group would begin to fire at the killbots and their companions with bursts of Kalashnikov and proton torpedo fire.

As they covered each others' escape, the Dornalians would exit the main hall and enter the adjoining hallways. The Proton Torpedoes would, upon impact with either killbot or power-armored guard, detonate with quite the firey explosion--essentially, the same proton torpedoes that one normally associated with X-wings and so on, but in miniature. Likewise, the AKs would be using that standard Dornalian accoutrement for ballistic weapons--exploding bullets with a conversion system designed to make them....well, go boom intelligently.
As the micro explosions of explosive 7.92mm bullets and tiny Proton Torpedos smashed away chunks of their armor and body, the combots did their duty faithfully, miniguns and gatling lasers blazing away, lighting up the poorly light Main Hall with red lasers and green tracers. Sometimes, if one was hiding behind a pillar, the combat would fire their missiles at it, reducing the pillar to a large pile of fine debris and probably turning the Dornalian behind it into a fine gorey mess.
As the Inquisitors entered, more red lasers, blue plasma, orange tracers, and blue tinted grenades littered the field of combat, turning the pews into powdered wood. As they did so they let forth battle cries of scripture, hellfire, and damnation.
"FOR HE IS THE REFINERS FIRE! I SHALL BE A WITNESS AGAINST SORCERERS!"

"FUCK! WE LOST JONESY!"
"Fall back into the hallway! Now! LET'S MOVE!"
The Dornalians of course, by this point had withdrawn out of the main hall, tagging Jonesy's body with one of the pattern buffers marked "Graves Registration" for safekeeping. The Powered Combat vest had kept Jonesy mostly together, but the man's head....well, it was quite removed from his body. But there was no time to mourn. Not yet. As the Dornalians pushed into a side hallway and closed the door behind them--knocking over some of the artifacts to delay the coming of the bots--Aisenshtadt found an elevator and called it to their level. It would hopefully take them into the dungeons below.
As the Dorns moved the pile to the doors, they also slapped a few strips of paper onto the walls. Marked with red CHinese script on each of them and the image of a flame, the strips were joined by a couple of mines rigged onto a deadfall trap. When the bastards burst in, the paper strips would ignite, and shoot out ultrahot jets of flame for at least a good sixty seconds--not an unexpected reply since each strip of paper called on divine cleansing fires to punish the enemy.
Eventually, the Dorns opened up the elevator...to reveal it was in fact a side service entrance.
To stairs.
To that, one of the ERIS agents said to Aisenshtadt, "I hope you got more of those miracle sticky notes. Because we've got a ways to go."
"They are fu paper, Agent Seitz, and yes. We do."
Aisenshtadt frowned as she began having her team evacuate downstairs. Shutting the door behind them, Aisenshtadt had the Dornmen slap some more of the fu paper-claymore combo at key points on the staircase. The team moved swiftly down the stairs, looking in all directions and preparing for a firefight all the way down.

---

"Kennedy! Break the door down!"
"As you command."
The squad of Inquisitors began to pile up their dead for burial, the damned heathens and heretics having claimed the lives of five of their brothers and wounding several others. The power armored man, his armor showing scratches and dents from the fight, walked halfway across the main hall before turning and, like a rhino, bent over and charged the door. As soon as he burst through it, trampling the artifacts in the process and triggering the surprise, his screamed as the flames rapidly heated up his armor and the explosions sent shrapnel into the bodysuit underneath the armor. The other Inquisitors jumped back in surprise, a few cursing the infiltrators. As they waited for the flames to die down (one of them using their Holy Hand Grenades to try and put it out with Holy Water), the Lord Inquisitor, Oliver Adams, called to the above squad over radio.
"Fransisco! Have you dealt with the intruders?"
"No My Lord. They're heading your way. They'll probably be in the laboratories and-"
"Damnit! Kill them! I'll send a few teams over to assist you but do not report back to me until they're dead! We can't let them get the False Messiah, understand?"
"Yes. Deus Vult, My Lord."
"Deus Vult, Squire."
The two then hung up. Fransisco looked at his men, seeing the flames had been put out.
"Well!?" He barked angrily, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the stair case a room away "What are you waiting for!? KILL THE HERETICS!!!"

Aisenshtadt and the other Dornies, who were quickly moving down the long staircase, couldn't help but hear the racket above caused by the explosions. The one who planted the fu paper, Korolev, grinned with an unusually satisfied grin as she happily pulled out some more from a pattern buffer on her belt, and her wolf's ears--superflously attached to her very human head and body along with a wolf's tail--said simply, in a New Chicagoan accent, "Whoever invented these motherfuckers deserves a medal."
Aisenshtadt said simply, amused, "They do indeed. Now, go place some more award winning work on the walls. I want to be ready for--"
The team then paused, and readied their arms. They were approaching the end of the staircase, and knew that beyond the entrance lay many more baddies than they cared to meet. Still, things would need to get messy. Aisenshtadt and the ERIS agents pulled out a flashbang for each of them. Aisenshtadt would carefully stop, sniff the air, and try to use the Force to figure out what was on the other side.

The infiltrators could hear the clicking of rifles and machine guns as the two four man fire teams readied themselves no the other side of the staircase. As they did so one of the men. a chaplin, held the Holy Writ on his left arm, the tips of his fingers holding it open to the segment with various prayers in it. In his other hand was a Blessed Silver Blade, said to be able to not only stop unholy magic, but also potentially reflect it back at the attacker. He glanced down at the Holy Book and read part of the confession:
"O Eternal God and most merciful Father, we confess and acknowledge here before thy divine Majesty, that we are miserable sinners, conceived and born in sin and iniquity, so that in us there is no goodness. For the flesh evermore rebelleth against the spirit, whereby we continually transgress thy holy precepts and commandments: and so purchase to ourselves through thy just judgment, death and damnation."
He then looked at the door, waiting for it to slide open.
"If you will lay down your arms we will treat you mercifully. If you are a partaker in the evils of Witchcraft and Sorcery we will make sure your death follows scripture. If you do not partake in such vile filth then we will let you live so long as you renounce your wicked ways and convert to the shining light of Christendom. The choice is yours to make."(edited)

Aisenshtadt couldn't help but snicker at the sentiments. So Puritan, and so....clichê really. After all, one got that sort of thing as both an Orderwoman and a practicing Jew and a Forest Sister, all from the usual guttersnipe sorts, like those Humanity First skinheads that used to come by in trucks and throw rocks at people. They were basically saying cruder versions of the same sentiments the Chaplain was saying.(edited)
She turned to one of the Ordermen, a young woman with cat ears and a tail and an Ambigiously Brown complexion, who only said with a shrug, "Don't look at me, Cap. I go to Mass with Father Desmarais every Sunday morning."
Aisenshtadt nodded, and said simply to the Chaplain, "SOOKA BLYAT!" before she tossed in her flashbang along with the ERIS Agents.
The flashbangs themselves were comparatively mundane grenades, combining a loud, noisy, deafening sound with a blindingly flashy light to disorient and stun the enemies within. The Ordermen then followed up with regular frag grenades and smoke grenades, and after those went off, the team rushed inside to "slice the pie". The Force-Magic abilities of the ordinary Ordermen had a funny way of making it easier to shoot amidst the chaos inside--doubly so for the Forest Sisters and Dornie Nekos in the team who had some heightened senses. Being part animal in genetic makeup due to some long dead pre-Apocalypse Institution's genetic fuckery had its benefits.
But they would all come on display as the Ordermen not only shot, but also used telekinesis to throw things--including hopefully the machinegunners--about.

---

As the flash bangs went off, the Inquisitorial Troopers were caught off guard, though one did manage to squeeze off a few shorts at etc Orderwoman who threw the flash bangs. The effect's subsided but by that time the frags went off, shrapnel tearing apart the flesh and cloth of their yellow jackets and skin or cracking or shattering the computer monitors apart from the shockwave. Once the smoke went off they felt safe to try and fight back but kept missing or being killed. In a minute's worth of fighting they figured it'd be best to retreat and did so. Though they accidently split up with the Chaplin and a few troopers retreating to one of the corners of the room while the other fire team retreated to the tunnel leading to the Meditation Chamber. The Chaplin glared at wolf woman.
"Heathen! You are a filthy creature made of man's damnable idea of worshipping himself and claiming the power to create life! You will face fire and torment as will all unrepentant sinners! Your existence is enough to justify the punishment for such a crime! Your sentence is DEATH!"
He then charged forward, the first blow he blocked with the blessed silver brass knuckled calvary sabre knocking the capotain off his head. The other troopers that were with him returned fire at the other Ordermen and Orderwomen with their plasma rifles and machine guns. Behind the order operatives came the Inquisition squad form the main hall. The Power Armor operative, Inquisitor Kennedy, smiled evily under his helmet as he saw he was behind Aisenshtadt.
"BURN IN CLEANSING FLAME!" He shouted, the helmet giving his voice a "metallic tint" to it as he readied the flamethrower on his wrist, which was fueled by a tank strapped to the back of the armor. The other inquisitors simply used their laser and plasma rifles (and sheer numbers) to try and overwhelm the squad with their firepower.

"SCATTER!"
Aisenshtadt and her men moved out of the way, firing back at the enemy as they did so. Aisenshtadt ignored the Chaplain's shout, rolling her eyes as she did so as form of silent rebuke. She would have come up with a quip, but Inquisitor Kennedy and his powerarmor suit was a more pressing matter. Immediately, he would be the recipient of two successive proton torpedo blasts aimed at center of mass, followed by a long burst of AK fire at the tank at the back of the armor. Hopefully, the old Hollywood cliche of exploding guys with flamers would pay off.
As she did that, the other squaddies would return fire, hiding behind tables, desks, chairs, and even using their powers to toss the furniture about with more telekinesis. Hopefully, sheer Newtonian physics would help clear the way--if not, 7.62x39mm explosive ammunition and 40mm Proton torps would work as well. A portion of the Ordermen would be focused on dealing with the baddies in the lab, while the other portion would be turned to face the interlopers entering from the staircase....who had all convenintly began to come out of one spot.
As to the Inquisition Squad from the main hall began to enter, the ERIS Agents themselves got busy. They would lack a command of magic, but the ERIS people had their own tricks. First, Seitz's colleague would provide initial support with a couple of proton torpedoes and a smoke bomb to disorient the enemy, even as the Colleague also had her own weapon--a Meltagun. Agent Seitz meanwhile pulled out what looked like a small tube, before she flicked it with her wrist and revealed a long, blueish-glowing blade. Not an energy blade, but a razor thin, physically present jian-type sabre. Seitz then proceeded to dash with superhuman speed to rush the inquisitors with a blade in one hand and a very large Klingon Disruptor set on disintegrate in the other--after her Colleague had shfited her focus a bit to avoid friendly fire.

As one of the fools tried to make his tank explode, Kennedy laughed, turning as the explosive rounds did nothing more than dent and scorch the flamer fuel. He sneered from beneath his helmet at Aisenshtadt as she was now focused on him, leaving the Chaplin to be dealt with by Seitz.
"Yiff in hell, furfag." Came the power armored man's snarl as he unleashed another burst of napalm at the Orderwoman.
Meanwhile the other Inquisitors ran, hoping to get to their allies, were slain, or were fighting for their lives against these unholy beings. Telekinetically manipulated chairs and stools flew around the room, cracking their skulls or knocking their rifles and light machine guns out of their hands. One of the Inquisitors, Melendez, spotted an opening from Seitz who was distracted with a sword fight against the Chaplin, her Klingon Disruptor having failed to destroy the Blessed Silver Sword, and fired, hoping the laser bolt would slice her right arm off.

Aisenshtadt rolled to the side again, growing rather weary of these people and their sanctimonious language seemingly cribbed from an amateur production involving the Salem Witch Trials.
At this point, she began to play out her options. She could go with a potentilaly dangerous option--using a Dark Side power, either Force Choke or Force Lightning. She could also go with a more conventional approach, pounding the fuel tank with enough explosives to set it off (including the proton torpedoes which were normally supposed to be a lot mroe violent than they were being right now), or even getting in close and stabbing through the armor. Eventually, she decided to go with the Force Choke. She'd explain herself later at any rate.
Ducking behind one of many desks strewn about, she first flung a dead soldier at KEnnedy using her mind to distract him, and then proceeded to make a squeezing motion with her hand. Done properly, Kennedy would begin to experience a suffocating ,choking sensation in his throat, under his power armor. Eventually, done long enough, he would pass out or pass into eternity. Of course, not wanting to find out what would happen, she called for some of the Dorns to open fire at the powerarmored monstrosity with all the explosives they could muster, to take the beast down.
As for Seitz, she suddenly found a substantial part of her powered exoskeleton damaged as the laser blast ripped off the exoskeleton portions covering the right arm. The pain was quite a lot, and she doubled back for a minute, now on the defensive against the Chaplain. Her Colleague, meanwhile, followed Melendez's blasts with her own Meltagun's fire at the Inquisitor, moving closer as she fired, shouting, "SON OF A BITCH!"
As that occurred, the other Dorns began to press their attack, moving swiftly to finish off their opponents and hopefully put the relatively tiny distractions behind them to focus on Kennedy and the Inquisitors, before pushing to the objective.

As that was happening the retreating Inquisitors burst into he mediation chamber. It was a calm, serene place, filled with nature as trees, grass, a tiny babbling brook, and various plants filled the chamber, giving the place a nice scent of various flowers and tree saps. The men in their, with bent heads and kneeling in prayer or meditating on God's Word, glared at their allies. It appeared they missed the alarm.
"We've... been... fighting... un... holy... beings... for God knows... how long..." One of the bent over and sweating Inquisitors got out before collapsing onto the bladed grass.
The others looked around, concerned.
"Give us a few minutes to get ready," One of the formerly praying Inquisitors said, before he and the others left for one of the armories. With any luck they'd also gather some friends from the Barracks.
They then followed their brethren and were told to rearm at the various armories nearby. Hopefully their new toys would have some effect on these heretics and heathens...(edited)
The Chaplin, taking the opportunity, began to attack more viciously, attempting to slice open Seitz's throat.
"A SANCTIFIED MAN IS LIKE A SILVER BELL!" He shouted as he smacked her Jian harder and harder, his blade gaining heat with each smack though not melting as the woman would probably have expected "THE HARDER THEY ARE SMITTEN THE BETTER THEY SOUND!"
As he finished he succeeded in smacking the woman's Jian aside and proceeded to punch her hard on the breast with the brass knuckle hilt. He smirked as she shouted in pain and collapsed onto the ground. He pointed the tip of his blade at her heart.
"And he shall strike down the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit!" The Chaplin finished as he readied himself to thrust his naked weapon into her tar colored heart, his eyes filled with the fires of a wild man on a mission.
Meanwhile Melendez watched in horror as the Meltagun blast seemed to, well, melt his arm. He screamed in pain as he clutched the stump that was formerly his arm before he turned and saw The Colleague aiming the gun right at his head. As soon as he was dead Kennedy was also in a panic, his throat seemingly collapsing on it's own. Before he knew it he backed out, and probably for eternity as everyone began to shoot at him.(edited)
The other Inquisitors went down but not without a fight. By the time the skirmish was done the lab was completely destroyed and, while maybe not dead, the infiltrators certainly were wounded and banged up and starting to run low on ammunition. Maybe one of the nearby armories might come in use if they can find it without dying from the hornet's nest of Inquisitors...

Korolev saw Seitz and the Chaplain, and immediately shoved Seitz out of the way telekinetically, before she began firing at the chaplain. The commotion caused The Colleague to turn her Meltagun on the chaplain, screaming, "SEEEEITZ!" as she projected a whitehot particle beam infused with napalm at the Chaplain's face. Seitz for her part would get up, and take her sword back as she moved to aid the others in cleaning house. Aisenshtadt herself, glad that Kennedy was slain, let go and staggered for a minute. The darker arts had a way of leaving one winded through their use, and she merely gestured for the teams to begin mopping up and working to find battlefield pickups. Gauss Rifles, plasma rifles, so on.

The weapons were likely dinged, but servicable. Besides, they had to save their own munitions for the extraction out of there--even though pattern buffers made the storage of lots of weapons easy, well, there was only so many.
Equipping themselves, Aisenshtadt ordered the men, once mop up was done and all enemies were slain, to begin moving to inspect the complex and to stay together for the most part. They would need more ammo and they would need to find their prisoner.

---

By the time everyone had gathered their weapons and gear an alarm sounded. Inquisitors where bearing down on the laboratory. Once they arrived they noticed it was empty and began to have a more frantic run. Most of the group used one of the tunnels that'd lead to the Prison Cells. As they did so they radioed the men in the Prison Cells to cut off the Dornies in the tunnel leading from the laboratory to the prison cells. They did so and soon the dornies were caught between two groups of Inquisitorial Troopers.

The Dornalians answered back with their own plasma and laser fire. The weapons so scaveneged would be familiar enough to the Ordermen. They had gone through plenty of tactical drills with the Plasma Caster and Plasma Rifle and even the Laser Rifle--the technology existed in Dornieland and had traded on the civilian market for years. Crude in comparison to more modern blasters, but they would be quite effective in the right hands. And as such they began the dance again, with elements beginning to withdraw from the room as they covered one another in a bounding overwatch. They would attempt to make their way out, and locate the prison cell with their HVT.

The troops rushed to the Prison Cell, hoping to keep them from unleashing the hell the False Messiah would unleash if she escaped. They aimed at the door, ready to blast first and never ask questions. Power Armor was now in heavy use after seeing regular armor wouldn't suffice against these heathens and heretics.

Meanwhile, in the tunnel the Dornalians were using to get to the Prison Cells, hell had broken loose. Plasma and Laser fire were exchanged between the two groups with some of the Inquisitors switching to their shock hammers and tesla great swords, attempting to slice up the opposition with mixed results. One of the Inquisitors, Inquisitor Alejandro Miguel, had one of the Dornalians cornered in the generator room, the hum of the steam powered generator greating their ears.
"I've got you now, bitch." He snarled under his helmet as he raised his blade, ready to strike her down

The Dornalian Raiding Party had been rushing and rushing to and fro, with little time for niceties like "subtlety" or "actually pausing so they could comprehend why these people were putting their lvies on the line." As part of that, they had dashed into the Generator Room, with the fireteams they had broken up into covering each other. Agent Seitz had insisted it was the best way to the Prison Cells, given the current conditions and the fact that everyone in the base was trying to murder them.
The problem was though, was that like most parts of the base, it was filled with death squads and soldiers that, as stated previously, wanted to murder them. This included one Inquisitor Alejandro Miguel, who had cornered Korolev and was prepared to flay her apart. Old school.
Of course, The Colleague was under no impression that this should become reality. So, she leveled the Meltagun at him and pulled the trigger, sending a nasty stream of particle energy and napalm firing into his center of mass. Korolev would have fired back with Force Shove, but the enemy had deployed anti-magic devices which were proving surprisingly potent.
Even as that occurred, the Ordermen at the rear of the Dornalians fired back at their pursuers.

Alejandro heard The Colleague shout something. He turned, saw her aim the Meltagun at him, and leapt out of the way. The steering hot stream of particle energy and napalm missed him...
And melted it's way through the generator, frying and destroying it in the process. The lights went dim, the automatic and magnetically sealed doors opened, the anti-magic devices powered down, and the forcefield container holding False Messiah in went offline. The whole complex immediately plummeted in temperature and evil symbols of pentagrams and inverted crosses suddenly appeared in a fusion of fire and magma, etching themselves as if drawn by invisible figures.

Aisenshtadt and the others began to put their Force senses to work, sensing a major disturbance in the Force. To a man, they got ready and prepared to fight whatever would be coming. Clearly, they had awoken something....unorthodox. Something which their intelligence had been a bit off about.
In the confusion, the Dornies fired at the last known spot where Inquisitor Alejandro had gone, but the bulk of their efforts focused on Aisenshtadt calling out The Colleague with a stern, "Idi Nahui! What did you DO?"(edited)
The Colleague only said, "Missed the kill shot," somewhat embarassed.
"Yeah." Aisenshtadt then issued an order to all and sundry in the DOrnie team using a Forcemessage, "Clean up and move out. Keep your Papa Bravo protocols handy. Anything tries to possess you or otehrwise tempt you, remain calm and resist. And remind me also to find out whoever provided us this intel, because we need to have a long chat with them. Sooka blyat."
With that, the Dornies finished shooting at Alejandro and pressed onwards to the Cells.

"FUCK! RUN! SHE'S FREE! RUN!"
"CHRIST! HELP US! PLEASE!"
The Inquisitors, usually brave, stoic, and seemingly cold to outsiders, were now more human than ever in their panic. That... thing the Dornalians had accidently unleashed, was the HVT they were after herself. The demonic figure casually strode forward, lewd and, as one could put it, stripperific as usual, casually walking forward with not a care in the world as she began to tear the facility apart. Heavy assault rifles, cambering .50 cal rounds, were fired to no effect. Plasma pistols and rifles were discharged but easily deflected by a mere movement of her hand. Hellish creatures were unleashed by her, giant fusions of Wolves and Dragons, that began to chase down the group.

Alejandro, who was back on his feet, stared at the destroyed generator in a mix of fury and horror.
"What did you just DO!? YOU DAMNED FOOLS! YOU'VE DOOMED US ALL!" He roared angrily, pointing his blade at The Colleague, ready to rip her head off.
Before he could do so the doors on the other side of the room flew off and a howling wind followed. Soon a cold laugh followed and then came the deamoness herself. She stared at Alejandro, waiting to see what the "Lord-Inquisitor" had to say for himself. He said nothing but stared her down, clutching his tesla great sword, ready to go down fighting.
"This isn't even all my power, mortal." She said cooly, her voice echoing as if multiple people, man and woman, were speaking.
"Your infernal magic has no clutch on my soul, foul demon!" Alejandro roared back, his brown skin covered in "goose bumps" as the temperature now plummeted to seemingly sub-arctic levels of chill.

Aisenshtadt saw the Daemoness, and the other Dornies realized that their intelligence had indeed been very, very wrong.
Or at the very least.....a bit too generalized for its own good.
They stared at the demoness in front of them, in all her damnable splendor, the icy chill filling the room.
Aisenshtadt coughed, and pulled out a white handkerchief as she approached and said to the creature who was raising hell--quite literally--"Let's slow down for a minute, ma'am, my colleagues and I are not your enemy. I hate to interrupt this discussion, but we want to know. Who are you? What are you?"(edited)

[Allanea]

[joint post with the player of New Dornalia, under consultation with the player of Crystal Spires

Kazansky Heavy Industries Dockyard, Liberty City

The King’s private yacht was not truly a yacht in any real sense. It was, in fact, a space battleship, refitted several times, with only the hull of the original ship now remaining after the several refits. It had been once named after a young woman Alexander had loved then, and of course had been renamed now that he had been married. It was now called, simply, the Impossibility.

The Impossibility was, to lack a better word, enormous, blade-shaped ship, painted a gleaming red. Right now, it was hovering over the dockyard, its shadow visible for miles and miles away, like a dagger thrust against the evening sky. Anything that could have moved or buckled has been already removed from its insides - the animals from its gardens, the furniture, everything.

In the shadow of the enormous ship stood Alexander Kirillovich Blaken-Kazansky, King of Allanea - and by him, an unusual individual that rarely if ever made public appearances and indeed was rarely interested in publicity. It was a tall, red-haired woman, dressed in a reddish-pink blouse... and having, from the stomach down, the body of an enormous snake. Six arms - one of them holding a tablet - and vertical pupils contributed to help one identify her as Amanda Lixunomei, Professor of Teleportation and Planar Travel. Next to her stood several others, scientists and adventurers alike.

As they watched, heavy equipment was carried past them - long rolls of Hestian cable, tanker trucks full of pain, and enormous, spider-like robots that shook the ground and left deep marks on the concrete as they passed.

As this occurred, two individuals in a ship coming towards the Impossibility raised their eyebrows at the sight. One of them was a woman in white with a cup of tea and an unusually serene look on her face, hovering slightly above the ground. Her dress was unusually Victorian or even Edwardian in style, and she had eyes which seemed to be closed a lot--although that obviously wasn’t the case.

“Oh my, Albert. They’re really putting in quite the effort into this plan, aren’t they?”

“Albert”, the other companion, wasn’t like the woman. Rather, Albert was a creature whose form combined elements of a dragon and a deer. A kirin. And Albert Wong Fong-Shek, as his full name was known, simply nodded and looked at the environment below. He pronounced it, in a manner of speaking perhaps more suited to South Central Los Angeles than the dignified form of a wise advisor creature, “You can say that again, Cecilia. I mean, all this work to step up our magic game? Damn.”

“Indeed. From what I hear, His Majesty has a plan--quite a plan….” Cecilia said, sipping her tea out of a desire to keep calm. For his part, Albert said, “Think he likes to be called Alex, Cecilia.”

“Indeed. Hopefully, we can figure out what it is, if we haven’t already. Given that it involves individuals from the government, my daughter’s colleagues in the Order, and us two? It seems quite serious.”

As this occurred, the ship requested permission to dock….

“This is LCAX Ground control, I am handing you over to the KHI Yards’ local control systems. Be careful, there is work going on at some of the docks, so make sure you don’t make any sudden random movements when landing. I suggest using the docks’ auto-control systems to steer yourselves down.”

As the local control systems took over, the Dornalian ship was steered, carefully, towards one of the available docks.

“Aha.” - said Alexander, as he saw the smaller ship - compared to the Impossibility, nearly everything was a ‘smaller ship’ - come down to the docks.

The shuttle disgorged the two Dornies once it got to its destination, and left. The Dornies themselves would eventually make it to the Impossibility, and after receiving permission to come onboard and/or dealing with whatever security was needed, the two would greet their hosts with a cheery smile and a wave.

Cecilia would nod and say, “Alex? Your Majesty? Was it? Cecilia Tadanobu Gushiken-Silveria. Just Cecilia for the moment. Professor Wong has informed me there is a plan in progress which may need my magical skills.”

Wong for his part nodded and said, “Cecilia and I go way back. She’s got her head on straight and she possesses an extensive knowledge of magical and mystical matters--one of the best people I know. Which of course in this case deals with elements of the plan y’all had going.”

“Greetings.” - Alexander said, and shook Cecilia’s hand. “This here is Professor Amanda Lixunomei,” - he nodded towards the Tana’rri, who smiled and politely added: “Pleased to meet you”, in a surprisingly kind voice. - “She is Professor of Teleportation and Planar Travel at the University of Concord, Liberty-City. Aaaaand that there,” - he pointed at a dark figure in long wizardly robes that was even then approaching them, “that there is Professor Ingwar Mechem, Conjuration and Demonology.”

Professor Mechem was a frightening figure, his eyes dark and piercing, with a pair of thick, black eyebrows making his glance look even heavier, and a black beard in the Lincoln style lining his face. A black, fearsome staff, that looked like it had been carved out of the branch of a cursed tree, was in one hand, and he seemed to smell of some exotic incense as he approached. “I prefer ‘Demonology and Conjuration’, Your Imperial Majesty”, he said, looking at Alexander as if it he had been an undergraduate student, or perhaps some imp Mechem had summoned. “But yes, it is me.”

Cecilia nodded at the two, and bowed respectfully as she said, “I am pleased to make your acquaintances, Professors Lixunomei and Mechem. I hope I can be of service to whatever it is you are planning.” Looking out to the massive cable being manipulated, Cecilia asked, “Is that….telegraph wire?”

“Nah, Sees.” Wong interjected. “That’s Hestian Cable. The newest sh--er, stuff in the technomagisphere.” Coughing, the Kirin continued, seemingly working to contain any potentially foul language around a valued colleague--and well, good friend, if the use of a nickname was any indication. “It’s based on some ancient technomagical goodies found on the world of Hestia. Able to conduct thaumaturgical energy--y’know, like the wires in your house which conduct electricity? That sorta thing. Except it’s capable of handling high-voltage magical energies instead of electric current.”

“Well. Tereza has told me about technomagical wonders which are being invented nowadays--fu paper printers, enchanted pattern buffers used to store malevolent entities guarded with magical locks--but I will admit, I don’t think I’ve interacted with Hestian cable before.” She looked at the cable with a curious gaze--akin to that of a traveler seeing a wondrous work of art for the first time.

“Well, it’s gonna play a part in what we’re doin’ here.” Turning to Alex, Wong asked, “That’s still the case, right?”

“I believe I owe you people an explanation for dragging you out here on short notice and asking you to take part in my shenanigans,” - Alexander said, and turned theatrically, with the vast, mountainous body of the battleship behind him. “Our story begins many millenia ago, in the mists of legend. You see, some people believe that the universe - at least this one - is destroyed and re-created anew in cycles. And so, at the time the current edition of our universe started out, the Gods expected the various items that were the source of their divine power, to also be rediscovered anew, as they are each of these cycles - again, as the legend holds. The exact details of these events are lost to us in the writings, and the tales are not consistent. What is however clear is that the Gods solved their problem by carrying out Samudra Manthan, a mighty summoning ritual that involved churning the ocean with a small mountain and a world-snake for a rope.”

He paused. “Now I don’t have a mountain, nor a world-snake. So, I decided to improvise a bit. My argument is that now, with the fractal disruptions ongoing, is the perfect time for us to carry out a sort of samudra manthan of our own, and summon some of the mightiest artefacts lost to history, or currently possessed by slaver kingdoms, to use in our battle against the forces that now encroach upon us.” - Alexander paused dramatically again. “Legend tells us that the mountain that was used by the Gods originally was actually more of a hill, only about two hundred and forty meters, or if you prefer, eight hundred feet tall. My yacht, The Impossibility, will make us a better churning rod.”


Cecilia paused and nodded. The tale was one she had encountered before, given her millennia upon millennia of existence--and of course, her familiarity with the divine, being that she was expelled from the afterlife herself as a young woman for being too nice. Her expression grew more studied, as she stroked her chin and contemplated the implications of Alex’s plan. She said simply, looking at the cable, “I am familiar with this ritual, yes. It is quite an endeavor you propose, one that no doubt will attract the attention of various divine and extradimensional entities. And that would explain the presence of the cable. Although how do you propose to use the Impossibility as a fulcrum upon which the cable will be spooled? I presume this ship has a rather strong anchor, or is otherwise stable enough to be fit for the purpose.”

Looking at the cable, Cecilia asked, “I also presume there will be, going off what Albert said, a thaumaturgical current flowing through the cable as it is being used to churn the ocean?” She then paused, recalling one part of the story, but figuring on wanting more details first, asked, “What other preparations have you made for the Samudra Manthan, besides the cable and The Impossibility?”

“My plan is as such.” - Alexander said. “We are going to use the cable to transmit thaumaturgical power through the Impossibility and into the ocean waters. Specifically we’re going to make the ship vertical and lower it into the waters, somewhere North of Garuda Island, arse-first, and start rotating it, using the ship itself as a rotating paddle of unusual size. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to first of all oversee the crews and techspiders so that they can cover the ship with the proper magical sigils as proper to your discipline. Professor Mechem will-”

Several rain drops hit the ground around Alexander, but he didn’t seem to mind as he spoke. “Assist me in the spellcasting itself. If you choose to assist us also during the ritual, I will joyfully accept, but let me tell you that it’ll be dangerous as all fuck-out. Now as for my preparations,” - as he spoke, the rain accelerated, but he did not seem to mind. “I have contacted Emperor Frost of New Olwe.” - he paused dramatically, “And let’s just say I’m going to be making a good impression of a Mormon religious icon in this one.”

Wong raised an eyebrow.

“Hold up. Hold up.”

He then looked at Alex and said, surprised, “Y’all are telling me that you managed to get your hands on the Horn of Valere? The Horn?”

Cecilia raised her eyebrows, realizing the gravity of the occasion.

“I think I have heard of this fabled instrument before. It summons heroes of some sort?”

“Basically, yeah, Sees.”

At that, Cecilia said nodded, stroking her chin further, “I see. It would make sense for Alex to have obtained the Horn for the Samudra Manthan. Although I am also certain that the colossal scale of the ship etched with magical sigils combined with the energized thaumaturgical cables will do their part as well. As will other summoning items to ensure the best possible outcome, all made as part of a systematic effort to churn the ocean and recreate no less than one of the key acts of creation itself.” Pausing, she then said, looking at Alex, “Inevitably, this will attract the attention of those who wish to oppose the summoning of great legends and items designed to turn the tide against the Cataclysm. How do we protect against them?”

“Ah!” - Alexander raised an index finger in the air. At this point, raindrops were splashing all around him, and indeed it was no longer simply a drop or two, but unquestionably raining. “This is why I asked for the assistance of the Dornalian Navy. My simple plan is to have several Dornalian Navy warships on station a decent distance around us, and of course we will have the simple fact that we’ve assembled some pretty powerful people for the ritual on our-” a raindrop had treacherously gotten behind the lens of his glasses and in his eye, and Alexander blinked comically. “Okay, I think it’s safe to say it’s raining now!”

Cecilia nodded. “That would explain the message Supreme Commander Wachowski asked me to bring you. She said that the Dornalian Navy will commit assets to this effort.” Pausing, she then noticed the rain, and then said, “Oh my. Will you excuse me for a minute?”

Kneeling down, she produced a small box from her belt, saying, “My daughter gave this to me for a birthday gift. I’m usually a fan of bags of holding or even a steamer trunk myself, but I had to bring this along.” Pushing a button, three umbrellas would materialize from the box, one of which would be offered to Alex as Cecilia gave the other two to herself and Albert.

“No one should be without an umbrella, Alex. Pattern buffers are proving quite useful.” Under the cover of the umbrella, she also handed a note on official Dornie Navy letterhead to Alex, which would indicate that a small flotilla of ships would be committed to the effort, including a MacIntyre-class Super Dreadnought known as the CRS Konoha County.

“At any rate, Albert and I would be willing to provide what assistance we can to the effort. My daughter has also mentioned that she has called for Order volunteers to provide help also with what they can.”

Albert nodded, adding, “As they say? Many hands make for better asswhuppings.”

“I’m not sure that is what they say, Albert,” Cecilia said with a raised eyebrow. “But the point stands.”

It was at this point that the sound of heavy footfalls approached them. A Life Guardsman, running through the rain, his boots impacting on the wet concrete with sploshing sounds, approached them, carrying a metal-covered box under one hand. As he came close, he stopped, his heels clicking together, and raised his free hand to the edge of his peaked cap. “Good evening, Sire!”

“Excellent, Jacoby!” - Alexander smiled, approached the man, and hugged him, before taking the box from him. “Professor Mechem, behold, the item is here.”

His eyes sparkling with preternatural greet, the demonologist took the box in his hands and opened it. Within it was a polished spherical crystal the size of a baseball, glowing in a fearsome blood red. “It is the master summon materia,” - he whispered. “Truly, a King’s bounty we... you have been given, Your Majesty. That would move mountains.”

“You see,” - Alexander spoke. “We have prepared well for the ritual. Now, Professor Mechem will be assisting from within the ship, it’s likely safest.”

“Safest would be not going with you at all,” - Amanda Lixunomei said.

“True, it’s a volunteer-only type of thing. I will be casting this from on top of the boat. I shall have a protective item person for obvious reasons - I will be standing about ten, maybe nine kilometers up in the air as I conduct the spell casting. Energy for the spell will be partly provided by the Master Summon Materia, partly by the network of arcane sigils, partly by myself and partly, of course, by the Horn. Your job is to aid in drawing the sigils-”

“I already have some drafts.” - said Amanda. “As do I,” - Mechem said, not taking his eyes off the Materia.

“But if you want to end in the spellcasting itself, I will accept that gladly.”

Cecilia nodded in acknowledgement, saying, “We can help draw the sigils, and also participate in spellcasting as needed.” Albert nodded in assent, adding, “And if they’re big ones? We’ve got solutions which can help expedite the process.”

Albert for his part continued, looking at the Master Summon Materia with wide eyes.

“Now, as for that Master Summon Materia? That’s some serious shit. What kind of creatures are we hoping to bring out of the abyss?”

Cecilia looked at the crystal and said simply, “If I were to assume, they would be forces of terrible, wondrous power--the kind of power we need at this moment.” Pausing, she asked Albert, “Albert, do these just summon creatures, or could they summon anything?”

“Well, normally, that shit just summons creatures, but if I’m understanding this mixture correctly, he’s using it’s summoning abilities for more than that. Which would make sense.” Turning to Cecilia, Albert asked, “Y’all agree?”

“Quite so.” Cecilia continued stroking her chin, as she levitated the umbrella she had mentally and recovered a handkerchief to wipe off her face. A buzzing could be felt in her pockets, and she pulled out a small phone. Cursing at it a bit, she placed the phone near her head and spoke, before hanging up.

“Right. That was my daughter. The requested help should be coming soon.”

Alexander spoke. “In the original legend - which is interpreted differently by different sages - the ritual summoned forth a variety of things, powerful entities, weapons, jewelry, even plants. I have already figured out what I plan to summon - as for you, you can have some input in your drawing of the sigils.”

Mechem breathed out and closed the box with a snapping sound. “We should get to work, then.” - the Demonologist said. “Your Majesty-”

“Please, Professor Mechem, call me Alexander, we are going on a risky endeavor together.”

“Well, Alexander, it is time. Someone hand me the remote for those techspiders.”

Up the vast, seemingly monolithical, structure of the ship, the techspiders began to climb. They were alike in form, though not in size - a grey, steely round body on several spindly legs, some the size of a fist, others the size of a man, yet others monstrously enormous, they skittered - clickity-clackity-clack, clickity-clackity-clack - up the surface, using every available hold to propel themselves upwards, spreading around the body of the ship. The rain, lashing against the massive, mountainous body, poured down in torrents, and some of the robots were swept down and fell down the edifice, the air whistling around their metal bodies as they fell down the harbor, but overall they progressed well.

“While the techspiders get into position,” - Alexander said, “What is your plan, Cecilia?”

Cecilia said, as she looked at her watch, “My plan was to have myself on the outside to assist in spellcasting. I am not sure about Albert.”

Albert then said, raising an eyebrow, “Personally, I’m of the mindset that any magic should be done from inside the bridge. Besides, since Cecilia’s going to be on the outside, I may as well stay inside and act as backup.”

Cecilia nodded, adding simply, “I’m surprised Albert. You’re not usually this cautious.”

“Well, I’m just thinking things out, y’know? Besides, I know y’all got resurrected before, but well--” Pausing, Albert then said, “Actually, you know what? I’m comin’ out with y’all. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get too crazy out there. Like that one time with the soup.”

“The soup was an accident, I can assure you, Albert.” Cecilia seemed embarassed about the incident being brought up involving members of Malgravean SIS, but that was neither here nor there. Besides, Cecilia paused and stopped for a moment, before saying, “I can sense my colleagues. They have arrived.”

Sure enough, a call would come in. If the Allaneans cared to scrutinize the call, it would be delivered on a standard Dornalian Navy signal, requesting permission to enter orbit. Also, another transmission would come from orbit, this one from a civilian vessel. More clearly, it would request permission to teleport “fifty high-level personnel belonging to the Order of the Vanguards below along with equipment for etching and coloring magical sigils onto metal, along with other supplies.”

“We do realize that the ship is going to be standing on its arse, and its gravitics will be diverted to churning the oceans, yes?” - Alexander asked - “I am having a sort of proto-bridge arranged, however, that’ll be essentially lying on its side... that’s to say, standing vertically.... You know what I mean, goddamit!” - he said, exasperated with his inability to explain the alignment of the ship’s compartments.

Cecilia nodded, smiling calmly as she said, “I understand you perfectly. The ship will be on its rear end, and as such any movement will need to be conducted using gravitic boots or other implements. Also any preparations obviously will be made accordingly.” She then added with a quip, “I may be quite old, but time has not dulled my common sense.”

Albert then said, “I suppose y’all brought gravitic boots, Cecilia?”

“I have means of staying properly oriented. As I am sure you do.”

“Alternately...” - Alexander pondered - “Can you cast your spells while seated? If yes, we can put you strapped into seats on the bridge - with appropriate accomodation for Professor Wong, of course, and use life support gravitics to ensure the ship’s rotation doesn’t smudge you on the walls. Of course, if the ship’s gravitics fail, it will go to backup gravitics. In which case you’ll likely outlive at least this one of my mortal bodies. If they fail too... you’ll probably die seconds before I am disembodied. Any questions?”

“No questions,” Cecilia said with a nod and a stoic look. She wasn’t much of a space traveler, but she had been around enough with Father Flanagan to know that scenarios like the ones Alex described tended not to end well. Albert for his part said, simply, “Well, in that case, sure. I can cast while seated. Had to give a lecture once while seated cause some asshole t-boned my ride while I was going through physical therapy.”

Cecilia nodded, adding, “In that case, we can cast from the bridge. I accept this proposal Besides, given what you have described, my colleague has a point.”

“Let’s get to work, then.” - said Alexander.

* * *

Over the next few days, the men and robots labored over the vessel’s enormous body. Techspiders hissed and clanked as they climbed - clickity-clackity-clack - up and down the surface of the majestic ship. Dornalian mages, using gravitic harnesses or lifts, oversaw the etching and painting of enormous sigils, dozens of yards in size, some even larger, in elaborate patterns over the ship. Within the vessel, a pair of Sykes Transformers labored, lending their energy for mages to work with, augmenting their own mana. The archmages, too, oversaw the work.

Sometimes it was Ingwar Mechem, his long black robes flying in the wind, as he chanted spells in the Abyssal Tongues. He summoned hosts of demons to his aid, and workers shivered as they saw horrific creatures, with misshapen wings and curved, vicious wings fly among them, marking down heinous sign. The wind lashed the Demonologist, and the rain streamed down his hair and down his robe, but somehow the robe never became soaked with water, and he shouted out long sentences in Lower Abyssal and Dark Speech, and elaborate spells made out entirely in the curse-words of various nations.

Sometimes it was Amanda, Professor of Teleportation, and herself a demon. She needed no gravitics to fly upwards to the highest levels of the mighty construction, her six hands working in concert to cast the spells, and she spoke the magical tongues as if she had been born to speak them. Still it was clear that, despite her shape and heritage, she was less of a dark wizard than Mechem. Her spells and sigils were concerned, instead, with the planar shift and the different aspects thereof, intended to channel and augment the massive flows of mana that would in this spell be unleashed.

All the while, the Dornalians contributed on and on, and sometimes they took over as well. Cecilia and Professor Wong would be running the Dornalian side of the operation, which consisted of teams of the finest mages the Order could offer, all of which were the rank of Captain General and above (which in plain English, would mean they were quite skilled). The teams of said elite mages--about two or three fifty man platoons’ worth working in shifts--got to work drawing sigils and producing spells to augment their Allanean companions’ spells. They worked using gravitic boots, magnetic boots, scaffolds, all sorts of measures that people working on tall buildings used, and in the case of Professor Wong and Cecilia, sheer magical ability.

Cecilia for her part could be seen delivering tea in the most improbable of fashions to the Ordermen working overtime--if Alex cared to look, he would be able to see Cecilia pour tea overhand from a fancy pot into small handleless mugs, like at a fancy Chinese restaurant’s dim sum service. Cecilia and Wong also floated about, pointing out mistakes and giving orders quickly as they floated from part to part, gliding with good ol’ fashioned light body skills like in the Old Country. The Ordermen had no shortage of machines also to do their work--laser devices and so on--but the Sykes Transformers’ presence was well appreciated. Combined with the tea Cecilia provided, the sheer energies generated seemed to make things run quite fast, and made the sigil drawing that much easier.

Of course, those in the yard would occasionally hear the rhythmic chanting-singing of the Dornalians. Rooted in a variety of Earth traditions designed to make arduous labor pass by quickly, the Dornalians would work in cadence and shout bizarre statements like:

Momma, momma can’t you see! (Momma, momma can’t you see!)
What the Order’s Done to Me! (WHAT THE ORDER’S DONE TO ME!)
Got me paintin’ a masterpiece! (GOT ME PAINTIN’ A MASTERPIECE!)
So we can finally sleep in peace! (SO WE CAN FINALLY SLEEP IN PEACE!)”

Of course, there were times when even that was too silly for the management, and more than once Professor Wong had to shout profanities at the work crew, such as “Hey! This ain’t no fuckin’ Broadway show! Cowboy the fuck up and get this shit DONE!” And so, they would do so. For a little while.

Inside the ship, the techspiders reworked the bridge of the Impossibility (being a rational sapient being, Alexander had the yacht’s bridge located deep within its body, refusing to use the open structure at its top - now this was coming in quite rationally useful). Sigils and Hestian Cables were applied to the inside, to better conduct the magical energy from the ritual. They installed several massive chairs, each with strong safety seatbelts and even its own backup gravitics - though these, of course, served only as a last ditch-tertiary, backup to the ship’s own. One was a strange, misshapen thing, designed to accomodate Amanda’s Marilith frame. Now, were the intrepid Dornalians and Allanean to it in these seats, they would be seated facing the ship’s prow. A vast screen and dashboard were located in front of them, through which they could observe the events as they unfolded. An unassuming man in a black outfit was seated between them and the screen, his hands on a massive aerospace-style yoke, and a weave of cables running from the back of his head and into the cable. This man was Sean ‘Farb’ Kotov, an ex-Navy pilot. His job was to take over control of the ship in an emergency.

Cecilia of course, had time to test the seats, as did Albert--they found them quite useful. For her part though, Cecilia also prepared a small packet with notes and so on for the spellcasting process. While Cecilia certainly could recite the spells from memory, something wihtin her told the lady that it would be best to have a study aid--so to speak--in the middle of the action. Likewise, Albert could be seen preparing notes as well. Cecilia acknoweldged Farb with a nod, and hoped this would all work out. They had done their part. Now, it was time to see how, in the words of Gilbert and Sullivan, how “the why and wherefore” would play out.

At last, the ship rose from its moorings. It came off soundlessly, and men gasped in surprise as the vast edifice was now on the move. While of course everyone knew, in the rational level of their minds, that it was a ship, and that ships had engines and were capable of moving, still, a construct of this size simply taking off seemed unnatural. Larger even than 7the mountains themselves, the red edifice seemed black against the gray skies. Then, suddenly, with no flash, no sound, nothing, it vanished, the Mercines Drive inside it powering off and taking it away. There was a gust of wind as air moved into the empty space.

North Mystrian Ocean

The ship hovered in mid-air, its main drives directed towards the water. It was dark, but still the vast body could be visible for miles and lines on end as it descended, slowly, nearly lowering its stern into the water. As it approached surface, a signal was emitted. It was not audible to man or bird, but for those living in the water - dolphins, whales, Orca - it was an a warning sign, composed for this purpose by the Staff of the University of Concord. Any creature that was there near the ship would be wise to vacate the premises.

Aboard the ship, Sean Kotov pushed the controls, and the lengths of Hestian cable, held in spools at the stern, went free, unrolling as their ends fell in the water. Gravitic engines pushed slightly, and - unbelievably - the surface of the ocean began to flex, as if it had been made of rubber that had been pushed upon. So far the movement had been slow, but any living thing that was there would be wise to flee.

Far up in the stratosphere, on the prow of the vessel, a figure materialized in a flash. It was Alexander Blaken-Kazansky, in his typical black clothing. Black, angel-like wings were spread wide behind him. In his hands, he held a curved, brass horn. His fingers were bare as they pressed against the metal. Had he been exposed at this altitude, he would have lost his breath and died. Even now, wrapped with field of breathable air, he felt cold, the metal nearly hurting his fingers.

He began to chant. It was surprisingly hard, and he whispered the words of the first incantation, the cold air rushing against his body as he spoke. From here, he could see the endless sea of the clouds spread far below him, and in the gaps in the clouds he could see the continents of Mystria - far in the North-East, Imeriata, to his South, the lights of Garuda Island, and further South, the main continent itself. As he spoke, the sigils with which the ship was covered began to glow mildly. Inside the ship, the Sykes Transformers began to rotate, the tapping sounds of their rotation reminiscent of those of steam machines. More and more arcane energy began to flow, through the ship, through the cables, and into the water.

The ship rotated, slowly, like an ancient ship’s propeller. Its vast body moved ponderously over the water. Below around it, the ship’s gravitic field and thrusters mo the water churning and splashing about in massive waves. Steam and sparks rose from the water where the Hestian cables dragged behind the ship’s sides.

Within the ship, Ingwar Mechem took his cue, opening the box that rested on his knees. The Demonologist looked at the glowing, red sphere one last time, and placed his hands over it. He chanted out the words of his own spell confidently, in Lower Abyssal, his voice guttural and strong, like the voice of a demon. The sphere glowed brighter for a moment, and the sigils on the floor and the walls of the bridge glowed red too.

If anyone had not seen the Impossibility now, it would be now visible, as the sigils on its outside too, it was covered now from stern to prow in sigils glowing in red. Atop it, Alexander smiled.

I have written Kazansky is here in signs that all can read from Imerburg to the mouths of Irianul., he thought to himself. But it was time now to work. He raised the Horn to his mouth, pursing his lips. The cold metal hurt him as it pressed against his flesh, for even despite all the protection in the world, it was cold, very cold up here. He thought of the world around him, and of the suffering that he had witnessed. He thought of the evil creatures that there were now pressing against sapientkind - the Tyranids, the Phyrexians, Chaos, the Mi-Go. He thought of the genocidal Garuda to his South, and of the creatures that had dispossessed and attacked his loved ones and friends. He thought of the mighty warriors who were even now pushing against the darkness, and the weapons they needed for that victory.

He blew the horn.

The sound was a mighty one, like a call to battle. It echoed through reality itself, and perhaps warriors standing miles and miles beyond where the Horn could be heard by nature could still seem to feel the metallic, brass call, and feel a source of strength to fight on.

Such was the First Note.

Under his feet, the ship rotated faster and faster. A regular man would have been queasy only to look there - a mighty metal mountain, turning and turning, its passing kicking up a wind, the water under it churning in a mighty whirlpool, glowing with magical energy.


Inside the ship, the Dornalian wizards...

...would begin chanting their spells.

Cecilia in particular began muttering the various spells she knew, making various hand gestures as she muttered ancient calls in Sanskrit, Latin, Hebrew--all the languages and all the magics picked up from years of itinerant wandering across the Earth. As she spoke, her hands glowed with an aura, and Cecilia’s eyes themselves would glow a wondrous blue as she continued to speak, seemingly focused on her hands. Around her chair, a mighty aura flowed, strengthened by the forces unleashed by the Horn.

Wong likewise would also begin chanting spells, and performing his own arcane rituals, working off the notes he had prepared which would seem to begin to float up and glow a golden color, shuffling in and out seemingly by themselves to allow Wong to keep up the pronouncements. Gone was the pseudo-gangsta talk from before. Now was only the kind of chanting and magical invocations which centuries of Eastern mysticism had wrought.

As for the other Dornalians, the best mages in the nation were chanting and uttering their own spells in eerie, focused rhythms which produced a sort of trancelike echoing one normally heard in Buddhist ceremonies or even recordings of Gregorian chant. The foremen who had earlier lead work song-cadences now put their musical timing to work, leading off in chants which spanned languages and periods of all sorts.

Alexander raised the Horn to his mouth another time, and blew it again. It was colder now, and hurt him more. But he looked the skies, where the Dornalian ships hovered. He thought now of the links of friendship that bound him - and Allanea - to the world, his friends, his nation’s allies. He thought of the strain that the world was under, fighting as it was against the darkness that encroached. His muscles strained as he held the horn up and blew it.

It was a lower, bass sound, and it seemed like it would be heard even inside the ship, even aboard the Dornalian battleships that protected them. In their barracks in Reichsburg and in the streets in Rio, Greater Prussian soldiers would stir - perhaps not hearing the call, but still feeling a slight touch of its power.

Such was the Second Note.

Below, the ship spun. The wind howled around it, and the clouds seemed to spin. Steam rose from the waters, and the waves where the cables dragged through them glowed in every color of the rainbow. A vast whirlpool parted under the ship’s stern, deep, frightful, mighty. For miles and miles the winds of this storm could be felt, and those who made a living of observing the weather might rush to their stations in fright.

Within the ship, Professor Amanda Lixunomei closed her eyes, gesticulating with all her six limbs. She whispered - sometimes in Lower Abyssal, sometimes in Quenya, her voice light and gentle, the words hanging in the air softly. It was hard to believe that, between her and Mechem, it was she who was the demon. Here, the other mages who were aboard The Impossibility joined in as well, with their words of command and wisdo.

The Dornalians’ chants grew louder, more pronounced. Cecilia, Albert, and the others seemed to pick up pace as things built to a climax. Cecilia’s aura glowed brighter, and more intense, seeming to envelop her chair in blueish--well, it wasn’t fire but it seemed like it. Albert likewise chanted faster, and louder. The golden glow around him seemed to expand as well, albeit with a bit more subtlety.

There was a flash, as the Demon Professor rested in her seat, exhausted, and the glowing sigils around her - and then outside, on the ship’s body - glowed a soft blue instead of red.


Alexander’s chest hurt. His hands seemed frozen to the metal of the Horn of Valere. As his lips touched the metal, it seemed so cold as to do them injury. But he closed his eyes. He relaxed. To relax was an effort, as the cold-ache radiated now through his body. He focused on what was important. He thought of Leyfield, of his wife, and his daughter, and his friends who would require him to succeed. He imagined the joy on his wife’s face if the summoning worked. He thought of his daughter being safe, at last. He thought of the happiness of his friends, Wilhelm and Priscilla, and their daughter, as well. He blew the horn.

It was not a loud sound. In a high, gentle pitch, it would barely be audible - and yet it would be audible everywhere. It echoed through reality itself, a gentle, soft sound, appealing to the love and gentleness of sapientkind. It spoke of sapientkind’s charity, of its kindness, of it love. For a moment, it seemed that that is what a listener could think of - mothers feeding their infants, doctors at patients’ bedsides, children in pajamas drinking hot chocolate.

Such was the Third Note, and it was the mightiest note of all.

Cecilia of course, would moderate the speed of her chants, as would the other Dornalians as things seemed to all fall into place. The mood summoned up by the Third Note was strangely...warming. It was a feeling Cecilia felt all too well. After all, she had Terry, and her sister. And even before them, she had experienced it doing not just heroic things, but the simple things. Bowls of rice to the brokenhearted. Helping men who had lost their sense of self-confidence get it back. And, of course, the smiles kids had when she gave them not just candy, but the building blocks of better homes.

And so, the Dornalians would now move their chanting to perpetuating the Warm and Fuzzy Feeling so spawned. It was a reminder that yeah, people could build better missiles, but they could also build….better, happier people. All the while, Cecilia wondered if it worked.

Finally, vast edifice of the Impossibility slowed down to a half. The Third Note ended, only faint echoes of its music seeming to hang in the air as Alexander lowered the Horn from his frozen, bleeding lips.

[Allanea]

The banging and roaring lead Adrienne to suggest, with some topical sarcasm, "Let's make a decision either way, fellas. The door ain't going to hold forever."

"How fucking exciting." - said the Professor. "This is totally how I imagined an archaeological expedition to turn out to me, an incurision of cockmongling unicorn bears."

"Well," - said Nott, "what are our options here?"

Professor Wendorf pondered. "Well, we clearly can't head back into the tunnels. From what I gather from these noises, that spear-headed yebanashka is still alive and not too enthusiastic about the concept of being doused in gasoline. So what I suggest is we get onto the surface, cover each other with fire, and try to fight our way back to the nearest research station. Hopefully it's safer there."

He had no idea, of course, how wrong he was.

[New United States of Columbia]

The red skinned woman--if you could call her that--turned her black soulless eyes to Aisenshtadt. Her looks could both freeze ones soul and set it alight in unholy flames, Alejandro thought to himself.
"It is none of your concern. All I know is I should thank you," she said cooly, her voice echoing off the walls and ceiling as her right hand slowly reached her thigh and began to gently tug on her black outfit, a sly smile crossing her face "and I think I know how, woman."
Alejandro snarled before he spat at her. The deaconess simply looked at him and smirked.
"Oh for such a handsome Inquisitor you sure know who to annoy a woman. And, to be frank, I'd rather not get your blood on my swimsuit. Unless you'd prefer to see me in my Garden of Eden outfit."
She then sighed a surprisingly daintily sigh before she snapped her fingers and immediately afterward, those hellish Wolf-Dragons emerged, cloaked in some sort of spiritual energy as they appeared slightly distorted before they charged forward, aiming to kill Alejandro. They effortlessly tore him to shred but not before he shocked one of them with the tesla sword.
As soon as that was done the daemoness strode forward and approached Aisenshtadt. She got close enough that her heaving bosom was a mere centimeter from the woman. She smiled at her.
"Call me Illa."

Aisenshtadt and the others in the room couldn't help but notice the obvious attempt to, well, tempt Aisenshtadt. The woman nodded, lowering her handkerchief a bit and maintaining a brave face as she stuck it back into one of her pockets. She tried to remain steely calm in the face of the eldritch entity and said with a nod, "Madame Illa, was it? Colonel-General Nadezhda Viktorova Aisenshtadt. Order of the Vanguards. My team and I were tasked with recovering a potential High Value Asset from captivity here in this version of Columbia. Judging by the attention given by the management in regards to your captivity and the immense abilities you possess, I believe you may be the one we seek."
Coughing, the woman then said, calmly and focused on the task at hand, "I'll get to the point. We have need of your skills. There is a great cataclysm enveloping multiple dimensions. My government is working to roll back this calamity along with other forces, although there is still much to do to contain the crisis. Would you be willing to work with us to help contain this multidimensional calamity?"

Illa smirked and laughed upon hearing Aisenshtadt's request. She smirked and then leaned against the broken generator, as her two hell beasts finished snacking on the Inquisitor's corpse, casually biting through the power armor.
"Oh you mage's are such cute things, thinking you can control entities like us. However, while I'd normally laugh off your request and possess you, seeing as you're such a cute thing who I'd love to have fun with, I'll assist you so long as you grant my request."
She strode forward, pressing her generous bosom against Aisenshtadt's. She leaned in close, her flaming hot breath washing the Commando's face, making her sweat. She said in the most sultry voice she could muster:
"Let me play with ALL the men in your land and I'll help you however I can. It's a lot of fun filling men with lust and unnatural desires. I do so love it when they give in to my whispers."

Aisenshtadt remained firm, and refused to budge even despite the blatant, rather silly come-ons which would normally qualify as harassment in some regions. She merely said, amused by the attempt to seduce her, "I don't have the authority to grant that request, and neither do my colleagues." She then looked around, and nodded at the ERIS Agents which nodded back in short order. Aisenshtadt then asked, "Just to make sure I understand you correctly, Madame Illa, I do detect some level of interest in me as a person, as well as using the desires of others for personal entertainment. Is that correct?" Letting out a calm, subtle smile more reflective of her stoic exterior than anything else, "I want to make sure that if we discuss things, I understand you correctly."

The Daemoness looked at Aisenshtadt. She smirked as she said "I suppose you're correct."
She pretended to pant as if exhausted, despite showing no sweat, she then gave a rather evil grin as she said "Good lord it's hot in here. Mind if I change into something more... loose?"
The Hell Beasts looked up, having finished eating the Inquisitor's corpse, blood and gore trickling from their fanged mouths, which were filled with three rows of sharp teeth.
The Deamoness then laughed seeing Aisenshtadt grow frustrated with her blatant hyper sexuality.
"I'm just messing with you, darling." She said, adding a purr to 'darling'.
She then conjured up a wooden stool and sat on it, crossing her legs.
"So, you have a sort of offer, for me?"

Aisenshtadt nodded, and folded her arms as said simply, "We do." Aisenshtadt began pacing around a bit, as she began to lay out her points. "Now, from my end, I would like to utilize your services for the duration of the conflict. The Hellhounds, the magic powers, the freezing--it seems quite obvious that your services would be of great use to aid in stopping the enemy and restoring peace to the universe we know. At the very least, I've seen you work and you do quite good work. Now, obviously, any deal requires some give on my part. And you strike me as someone who does not act the way they do for the money." Pausing to look at her demonic counterpart, Aisenshtadt said simply, "You seem to be content with just the sheer fun factor of it all. And you did seem intrigued by my presence." She then asked with a smirk, "Tell me. How are you with...wagers?"

The daemoness laughed.
"You'll have to talk to a different demon for that. I only deal with violence, of course, and, as you might've guessed by now, sex."
She got up and strode over to Aisenshtadt, again. This time she did not let her back away. She wrapped her arms tightly around the Dornalian.
"I have a better offer. How about, instead of your sorry little offer by the sounds of it, I get two things in 'repayment' for my services."
She leaned in close and whispered into the woman's ear.
"Firstly for ten years I will have free reign of your land and be able to do with it as I see fit. Do not worry I won't bring plagues or genocides upon your land. Well, not intentionally, at least. Just let the people have free love and be able to screw whatever they want.
Secondly... I'd like to take you to my castle down in Hell. You'll come back here, eventually, just depends how long I intend to play with you. Could be a few minutes. Could be a few centuries. Depends on my mood really. I'll treat you well, give you all the clothes you could ever desire, and let you run free with your desires. You just have to obey whatever order I give you. And I don't take no for an answer... pet "

Aisenshtadt snickered at the predictability of it all. "I suppose I should stop beating around the bush then." Coughing, the wolfgirl declared, I'm not so keen on the first part. I mean, we are pretty crazy already. We may be nice people but we're not that prudish." There was also the fact that her superiors would likely have her shot for even allowing such a thing without their permission, nevermind the fact they would not actually be able to allow Illa to wander freely out and about the Dornielands. Moving her head back and forth and letting out a "Hmmm," she then declared, thinking out loud, "As to the second part....interesting proposal. I counteroffer though, with something you might like to consider. If you agree to drop the first part of your proposal, I would be wllling to entertain the second part of this proposal....say, a residency of indefinite length, with occasional visits for me to the surface?" The others raised their eyebrows at that, but Aisenshtadt said with the full knowledge of what she was proposing. It could be like Orpheus and Euridyce, or it could end up as a complete Faustian disaster--which to be fair, it really sort of was turning into at this point.

The Daemoness thought it over, smiling as she heard the Wolfgirl say she'd be willing to stay in Hell, so long as she dropped ruling the Dornielands for a solid decade.
"Hm... My my oh my sweet cheeks, you certainly have a way with flirting with a girl, don't you."
As she said this she reached for Aisenshtadt's bottom but stopped as she heard the clicking of guns. She looked at the Commando's and snarled at them, revealing her own hellish mouth and teeth.
"Very well! I accept your offer! Now let us, as you say, seal the deal."
She then leaned forward, closing her eyes, intending to kiss the furry woman.

Aisenshtadt laughed and said, extending her hand and maybe a polite cheek kiss--the kind used in greetings--"Custom dictates a handshake will do just fine. Besides, we've more pressing matters at the moment. Like getting out of here." Looking around, Aisenshtadt said, somewhat on edge, "Right. We should get moving, lest the remaining guards decide to cause problems." As she looked at her team, who could not believe what just happened, Aisenshtadt sent them a Forcemessage to a man, saying, "Rock and a hard place. What can I say?"
Sure enough, the Dornies would detect ripples in the Force...

"There, the evil ones are down there!"
"Let's kill the bastards and string up the nearest tree!"
Illa heard the shouts and looked at the wolf girl.
"Well, sweetums," the daemoness purred "if you want my help I'd suggest we get outta here. Normally I'd teleport and leave you behind but I so desire closeness with you. So, in exchange with sticking to our deal, I'll ride with you in one of the trucks. I'll lead the way."
The Dornies nodded and realized they had no chocie but to follow the daemoness. How this would be explained to the Superior-General's office and Director Huntleigh-MacIntyre herself were questions no one wanted to answer, considering the evil they had just unleashed. For her part, Aisenshtadt was hoping to do something, but she didn't think on it too hard. She had to focus on the mission, after all. As the Dornies moved to follow their new ally, they kept an eye out for the enemy. By the sounds of things, they were coming their way, and in great force.

Ella began a brisk walk throughout the complex, keeping Aisenshtadt and the others nearby. As they walked they heard the Inquisitors shout and began to run after them, being stopped shortly thereafter by the Hell Beasts. After a several minute brisk walk they reached the vehicle depot.
Inside the massive metal hanger were dozens of trucks, armored cars, and even a few IFVs. And, if Illa's guess was correct, a light tank.
"Take your pick, ladies and germs," Illa said, looking at the entrance they came in from "but make it quick. Company's coming and they aren't up for a gang bang. Trust me, I tried."
Aisenshtadt and the others noticed a pair of IFVs. Looking back and forth between the potential candidates, the team leader declared, "Fuckit. Okay, everyone into the IFVs. I'll need drivers, gunners-- you know the drill."
As the others nodded, one of them, who had really crazy eyes, said simply, "Hey, man. I'll drive."
Aisenshtadt motioned for him to get the IFV started with a simple, "Good for you."
Ilia was then asked by Aisenshtadt, "Alright. What can you tell us about these vehicles?"
Illa smiled, seemingly deranged.
"Oh! Loads! They are a pair of M3A3 Reyes IFVs! They are powered by Inmucs AVT-90B 8-cylinder diesel engine. They use several layers of carapace and plasteel for lightweight yet hard punch taking armor and are armed with a powerful MegaWattz Laser Cannon and twin ball linked 20mm auto cannons. They can seat up to seven people not including the gunner and driver."
Illa smirked after taking a deep breath from her never-ending ramble.
"Anything else?"
"How fast do these things go?" Aisenshtadt asked.
"Roughly forty miles per hour on road. Thirty-five off."
"It'll have to do. Besides, we got onto this world easily, we can easily get out." Aisenshtadt paused as she began to board one of the IFVs. "Well, that's the plan anyway. Let's hustle before the management makes us put you back."

Illa didn't bother thinking twice before hopping aboard and grinned evilly when the Inquisitors caught up and tried shooting at the fleeing IFV. As they began to drive off, on the radio, the spec ops group could hear urgent chatter between the Lord-Inquisitor and an Army officer.
"Yes! We need a full battlegroup on their asses now! They have Target False Messiah! Say again they have Target False Messiah! I want everything on them! Do NOT let them get to Boston International!"
Meanwhile, in the city proper, police and the local army garrison were mobilized. Police cars and trucks were being moved to form road blocks and IFVs, trucks, and jeeps were speeding off to try and get the troopers to good positions to stop the Dornalians.

Of course, the Dornalians kept the pedal to the metal. The IFVs commandeered by the Dornies stormed onto the Massachusetts roads. The Dornies tried to keep the military and inquisition off them by sticking to the backroads and also by the odd magic missile or Force shove trick.
All the while, Aisenshtadt radioed command, declaring "Mother Hen, this is Broken Spoon. I say again, this is Broken Spoon. Be advised--" Aisenshtadt then said, confirming Ella's presence, "...we have the package. Designation is now Objective Maeve. We are proceeding to exfil. Advise if support is coming over."
The call then replied, "Broken spoon, we register Objective Maeve. Be advised we are tracking multiple hostile task elements closing in on you. Whoever you have, they don't want coming out."
"You could say that," Aisenshtadt replied somewhat sheepishly, as the IFV swerved to avoid a parked car. Mother Hen then added, "Advise you find high ground in open field. We'll initiate extraction protocols from there. The area is thick with air and land elements so using the Papa-Charlie transporta isn't viable at the moment. Teleporter is best option but we need a good lock."
"Roger that."
And with that, Aisenshtadt asked Ella, "Do you know where we can find a good, defensible open area? Our exfil points are getting less and less by the minute."
Illa nodded.
"Yes. Head for Boston commons. Should be flat and open enough for-"
Before the unholy creature could respond the sound of an explosion could be heard. The crew were sent jerking forward, the leader of the Commandos hitting her head against the wall of the IFV.
"Well assuming we don't get creamed by the Army, that is."

The IFV had been chased by several army jeeps and IFVs, concentrating fire on the stolen IFVs wheels. One of the IFVs got a good shot in and destroyed one of the wheels, but it wasn't completely slowing the Dornalians down.
"Call in a Hawk!" One of the soldier shouted as he fired his .50 cal at the IFV, aiming for the firing ports in the back "That'll teach 'em!"

The IFV shook and sustained hits as the Dornalians realized that the operation would take them right into the belly of the beast. Boston.
Where no doubt a whole host of enemy forces could be seen lining up to end them in a swift, brutal fashion.
Aisenshtadt could only mumble a simple, "Shit!" as the IFVs sped into the city, and the enemy began firing at them. The driver only could be heard humming and playing a harmonica with one hand, to which Aisenshtadt said, "Not helping!"
"What? I feel music helps me relax. Besides, there's bigger things to worry about like explosions and violence."
Aisenshtadt then said, as the others began to use all sorts of Force powers to try and make their path easier, "Mother Hen, this is Broken Spoon. Heading to Boston Common. Encountering multiple hostiles. Advise that we need support. I say agan. We. Need. Support."
"Copy, Broken Spoon, but be advised you are approaching an urban area and if its anything like the Boston we know, it's going to be bloody murder getting Objective Maeve to the exfil point."
Aisenshtadt then shouted into the mic, "Then, Mother Hen, I suggest you plot the fastest available route."
"Copy. Uploading to your devices now."
THe Driver then said, with a cheery grin, "Hey, thanks command!" before he took a hard left and began to proceed down some alleyways. The Shortest Route would also be a rather madcap one which made more use of MBTA tunnels and others than one normally had to use in Boston.

As the IFV took a sharp left it sent the jeeps flying forward down the street. It didn't shake off everyone though. Two other IFVs, following it from behind, took the sharp left and resumed their attack. Meanwhile the pilots tried to get in contact with the Hawk VTOL that'd be providing support.
"Talon 1-1 Actual, this is Sierra 1-2!" One of the IFV pilots shouted as they approached an MBTA tunnel "We'll send you the coordinates of the Daemoness. When sent use all firepower you have to take her down, over!"
The VTOL pilot, having picked up their signal and mostly found their location, responded in the affirmative and began to fly to that location.

After the brief chase in the MBTA tunnel the Dornalians would exit it only to find a powerful VTOL awaiting them. It's two large engines strapped to the sides, thinned loudly as they heard at least six miniguns and auto cannons powering up and noticed it was carrying lots and lots of rockets and eight hellfire missiles.
Behind the VTOL was a full line of IFVs and police cars, blocking access to Boston common and behind that barricade were lots and lots of soldiers armed with energy weapons and heavy weapons. If they survived this they'd have one hell of a story to tell...

The Driver then sniffed the air and declared, "Fellas? We've got a bit of a problem."
Aisenshtadt saw the VTOL and the barricades, and sighed. With no mood and no paitence for this very lethal game, she ordered, "Fire on that bastard's engines. I'll do the rest."
And with that, the IFVs fired on the VTOL's engines with the laser cannons. As soon as they connected and actually started doing damage, Aisenshtadt would then close her eyes, hold her hand out, and breathe in and out slowly. She used the FOrce to find the pilot of the VTOL. Remembering how she had used Force choke the last time, she then decided to do something a bit more...direct.
Visualizing the pilot's hands, she would be able to grab the pilot's hands on the controls and jerk them wildly to put the VTOL in a controlled descent which would, if done correctly, slam the machine into the barricade with plenty of force.

"OPEN FIRE!"
Machine gun, laser rifle, plasma rifle, and standard rifle fire filled the air as the rain slowly began to descend on them like micro machine gun fire. Red, blue, and green laser, plasma, and tracers filled the air as they smacked into the front of the Cornelian IFV. The VTOL Pilot smirked.
"Gotcha now you-"
KABOOM!
The right VTOL engine blew up in a fiery blaze. It rocked violently to the left and he dramatically increased it's power, making it now tip to the right.
"YOU PIECE OF-!" He began.
Before he could finish, he felt something... funny. He looked down and could barely believe the sight. His hands were... not doing what he was thinking. He watched in shock as it seemed to be doing something. In a minute he quickly realized what was going on. He tried to regain control of his own hands but, sadly, nothing was working.
"FUCK!" He screamed into his head piece, as he realized whatever was controlling him was trying to crash him into the barricade "GET OUTTA THE WAY! PULL OUT! PULL OUT! PULL-"
The troops down below were mostly focused on the IFV shooting back at them. As the soldiers and police fired at it, one of the troopers heard the VTOL spinning out of control. He glanced up, spotted the terrifying fire engulfed aircraft, and screamed as he ran as fast as he could away rom the barricade. The others noticed what was going on and, while a few escaped, most couldn't. The explosion was a violent, beautiful, thing. Police cars were mangled and torn up, the IFV in the center flattened, and many corpses of troops and cops were shredded and sent flying through the air. Bits of blood dotted the front of the IFV. Illa smirked.
"Beautiful work, my apprentice." She said happily to Aisenshtadt.

Aisenshtadt muttered a simple, "Thanks" in shock as she patted the driver on the back and gestured for him to move forward with a simple, "GO!"
The IFVs slammed through the wreckage at high speed, eventually peeling out into this world's version of the Boston COmmon. Aisenshtadt radioed Mother Hen with a simple, "Mother Hen, we're at the exfil. Get us out of here."
"Standby, Broken Spoon. We're firing up the transporters now. You're in a good spot for beamout."
And with that, the party began to phase in and out, IFVs, Daemoness and all.

A single solitary truck pulled up to the commons. As the IFV was beamed out the surviving and not wounded soldiers and police began to lockdown the area and investigate the commons while a radio operator began to try and call in fighters to search the skies. The Lord-Inquisitor walked up to the only Army officer in the area.
"What happened!? What... the hell... happened!?" The man growled as his grey eyes bore in the officers brilliant azure.
The man stuttered but nothing coherent came out.
"I am NOT telling the Emperor that we just lost a literal demon due to you and your men's incompetence!"
He then pulled out his revolver and shot the man in the head right then and there and screamed at the survivors to begin a new search party. He would find Illa. No matter what it took. Even if it'd spark a war.

[CoreWorlds]

Six Hours Ago, Konohagekure no Sato, Elemental Nations of Coredia

"Good morning, Travis!" Said a cheerful, happy voice as lights streamed into a certain room at a certain vast mansion that hosts a powerful clan.

"Mmmrph. Five more minutes, please." Mumbled a voice still in a fine chocobo-lined bed. A small yellow mouse, a therapod-like lizard with a fire-tipped tail and a dog with tiger stripes all woke up from their sleep, then stretched themselves and looked to their still sleeping master.

"Well, you know what always happens. Don't blame me for your faults, Travis!" The other voice replied, sighing. "Nami, Thunderbolt!"

"Gladly!" The yellow mouse chirruped and lit up the boy in bed with a massive bolt of lightning that arced across the room.

"YEEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWW!" I yowled, running around like a headless chocobo with smoke steaming from my body. "INARI! NAMI!"

"When I said wake up, I meant wake up!" The other boy in question sternly replied, shaking a finger in my face. "As part of the Masaki Family Servant Force, I am entrusted with your well-being! That includes your moral standards! And Nami knows that you should be up too!"

"That's right, master!" Nami grinned cheekily.

I growled at the two. We're a very large clan, and we always have a lot to do as a clan, so like any large, well-to-do clan in the Elemental Nations, we have servants and retainers who work with us to conduct the day to day affairs, from running the massive territories and businesses we own to the rare times that the Masaki Clan gets called upon to descend upon some helpless planet and burn it to the bedrock.

Burn All Creation to Ash. That's our motto, and we live up to it as the premier firebending clan in the Elemental Nations, the one who teaches the rest of the Military Corps our style, should anyone desire to learn how to master the power of Fire Release, Plasma Release and our magnum opus, Solar Release.

Inari Masaki isn't a full-blooded clan member, but an orphan hanyou, half-demon, that was taken in by us and made my personal valet. Yeah, you still get the prejudice sometimes against half-and-halfs, but the large Hanyou Lobby in the Grand Assembly make sure that laws are in place to ensure their rights are secured. Still, even in these modern times, you still get the odd backwards clans that still...do things...as the rumor mills may say. If any clan is looked down upon by proper society, it's those, but I digress.

Inari's blond and wears fine clothes as befitting a servant. He's also a master firebender as good as any member, and he uses it to make sure that until I get my own powers back, all our enemies best stay away!

"Jeez. You do this almost every day, Nami. Be careful that you don't shock me!" The dog replied, finishing his stretching. "Hmph. I suppose the day begins now, eh, Ronyx?"

"Don't ask me, mutt. I'm just the Charmeleon on the team. I could care less, so long as Master doesn't do anything stupid today." The red-scaled therapod replied haughtily.

"Aww, c'mon, Ronyx. I'm not stupid!" I complained as I shook off the last of the shock. "I just think in ways that nobody else thinks about. And it's not stupid if a plan works, right!"

"Suuuuure." The dog rolled his eyes and bounded out the door to wait for me. "Don't be late for breakfast, now!"

"Not even Blitz believes me." I moaned. My Pokemon laughed at my antics.

"Well, go take your shower and I'll set out the clothes for you. The usual?" Inari asked.

"Hmm...I want to try something a little different today. Black tee, red vest. Everything else's the same."

"Alright. Will do." Inari said, then I headed into the shower.

I came back out and put on my fresh clothes as my Pokemon waited patiently. Black Tee, blue jean cargo pants, unzipped red vest, fingerless gloves, red socks with fire symbol and combat sneakers. All good to go! I brushed water out of my hair, combed it a little even though it went right back to its spiky ways and then put my red cap on, backwards of course. Nami hopped onto my shoulder and I headed out of my room just as a strange weirdness washed over me. It was so weird that I stumbled as I was heading down the stairs and managed to catch myself on the bottom floor.

Then I blinked. And blinked again.

"W-wait, Travis!" Inari yelled, waving my Go-Goggles. "You forgot your Go-Goggles! Huh? What's going on?"

"Yuki, is that you?" I blinked again.

"What was that weird sensation? Travis-kun?" The small youkai called Yuki is a fire sprite that's been around since the beginning of the Clan. He's an awesome storyteller and is good with the clan kids. "Travis-kun! You don't have your Go-Goggles on!"

"What!" Sure enough, I patted my hat and my body and realized I did forget my Go-Goggles...and yet, I can see Yuki! "I can't believe it! I can see you without my Go-Goggles! I can see everybody!"

"That's amazing!" Inari cheered. "Whatever that wave of weirdness was, it looks like you got some of your powers back!"

It was then I felt a warmth in my chest. A warmth that I haven't had since...almost by instinct, I moved my hands into a stance, pulled my right hand back as I took a deep breath, then punched...and astonishingly, a wave of fire rushed out. I stared at the flames quickly disappearing into thin air. Even my Pokemon were astonished. "O! M! G! It's not just my eyes. It's like my whole set of powers came back! I gotta tell Mom! And Ryu before he goes to school!"

---

The Masaki Clan wanted to celebrate the day I got my powers back, but Mom, Ryoko Masaki, dragged me to the Konoha Medical Center for a full on checkup, just to be sure. Sure as the sun rises, it was as if Camp 13 never happened! It wasn't just me, though. My teammates, Hunny and Reika were also reunited with their powers, although for Reika, it was more like she had a minor boost because her twins lent back some of their powers and she was partially restored only as an average Uchiha and not the massive pool of chakra the direct heirs have. But today, just like myself, she revealed that her powers were restored in full glorious Uchiha, complete with the hypnotizing spinning red and black eyes.

Well, you know, it's not like she scares me or anything when she does that. No way!

In fact, the entire team that was captured and depowered back at Midgard seems to have had their abilities restored and I managed to get everyone together to celebrate our powers returning with a big barbeque outfit at the ancient but venerable Akimichi Barbeque Pit.

In the middle of chowing down on Elicoorian Boarribs, Dornalian Sausages and loads of mashed potatoes, barbeque and salad, we chatted up a storm and then heard another crazy bout of news.

Someone reported that some guys that looked like junior versions of Hashirama, Tobirama, Madara and a brother Uchiha of his showed up at a lake just outside of Konoha. With our newfound powers back, the whole team was asked by the bigwigs to assess their truth and bring them to the Hokage if they were true.

Turns out...

---

"Whooooooaaaaa! This is Konoha?!" A young man of sixteen or so with bowl-cut hair, a short-sleeved white kimono with black trimmings and a pair of black pants named Hashirama Senju gasped in awe at the magnificent skyscrapers and flying cars and spaceships zooming here and there, and the two hundred and twelve heads on the Hokage Mountain showed even more how far in the future they've come. "This is our legacy! And look, flying ships, Madara! We, the founders, are in a future beyond our wildest dreams!"

"I know. I can see it all. Now please stop hugging me. It's demeaning to my reputation!" Madara groused. He's wearing a long black kimono that reached down to his ankles and white pants. "Last I checked, I was the Lord of the Dead, and now I'm right back alive! Whoever did that will pay!"

"You had a reputation?" A younger boy with white hair grumbled, glaring at Madara. Two other boys simply glared at the Uchiha with nasty looks that the younger brother of Madara, Izuna gave as good as he got.

"Now, now. Behave, Tobirama and set an example for Kawarama and Itama. Our hosts will not enjoy our ill hospitality." Hashirama said, forestalling an argument brewing between his younger brothers and the Uchiha brothers.

"Still, I can't believe I'm alive like this, brother." The equally younger brother of Madara, a boy named Izuna, shook his head.

"Neither could I. And this is your doing? All this?" Kawarama, a Senju boy with light brown hair, asked skeptically.

"Well, not quite this far, but yes. Years after you and Itama were killed in the final years of the Warring States Era, Madara and I managed to make peace and found Konohagekure. I only wish you could have seen the Founding." Hashirama sighed. "But at least now I have you two back."

"Same here. It's weird, though. One minute, I've got a dozen swords in my gut, no thanks to Uchiha members catching me in the dead of night, the next I was at that little pond with you guys, no wounds anywhere. Just too weird for me. Hold up, I sense someone coming." The youngest Senju brother Itama, having hair that's half black and half white, looked up as he was speaking.

Surrounding the six youths were another bunch of youths, with powerful looking creatures by their side and even stranger abilities. Madara's and Izuna's Sharingans were blazing, but even they did not quite understand the energies coursing through the bodies of several of them. He was sure the Uchiha and Senju brothers could still take them on if they acted together, but he needed information...

He noticed a girl, slightly younger than himself and Hashirama, who had on a flak jacket. If he remembered his revival in the Fourth Great Shinobi World War right, she must be a Chuunin or Jounin. And stranger still, he sensed chakra a lot like himself. A direct descendant?

"I am Jounin Uchiha Reika. Please allow us to ensure that you are who you said you were when you met our patrol." The young woman said, a Cerberus-like dog with curved horns and a devil's tail giving them the stink eye, but doing nothing unless his mistress commanded.

"I understand. Good security." Hashirama nodded.

Reika closed her eyes and reopened them. Madara frowned as he realized she possessed the Eternal Mangekyou Sharigan eyes, the highest form of eye technique an Uchiha normally possessed. What was this future, that even children can master his family secrets so easily? Just how far in the future have they come?

He noticed that a brown-haired boy in a blue cap, matching set of blue-and-white striped T-shirt and matching brown khaki vest and pants gathered a strange energy that looked like a silver form of chakra to cast some kind of non-ninjutsu spell on them. He noticed a third boy with oddly shaped ears (like an Inuzuka dog's!) in a more familiar blue sleeveless kimono and pants gather another strange form of greenish-blue chakra from his mind. He figured in this future, they were using sensor powers of some sort. Clearly, the world of ninjutsu has advanced greatly since his time. He would have to be wary in case of a fight. And those creatures...even the mouse on the black-haired boy with red clothes was filled with ridiculous amounts of power!

"According to my scan, they are who indeed they say they are. Hashirama and Tobirama Senju, First and Second Hokages and their brothers who fell before the Founding. Madara and Izuna Uchiha, Head and Second of the Uchiha Clan. Hashirama and Madara are the oldest at biologically sixteen and eighteen ("Hah! I'm still older than you!" Madara exclaimed to Hashirama's chagrin), Tobirama and Izuna are fourteen and twelve, but the three seem to have the power of their Kage-level selves with Izuna at the power of a Jounin, and the younger two are eight and seven, respectively, but have the power and skill of Senior Chuunin." The boy in the blue cap replied. "Magic doesn't lie."

"I concur with Yukinomaru. Their chakra is older, less refined than our own, and strictly optimized for the battlefield. But the First and Second Hokages and Madara are powerful enough to make even the current Hokage have to break a sweat." The other boy nodded.

"My eyes tell the truth as well." Jounin Uchiha said. "They are Konohagekure's Founders and their brothers."

With the truth out, hushed voices sounded across the crowd and we relaxed slightly. Really, the ancient Founders? And shouldn't they look like old people, not kids like themselves? What the hell is going on?

"Wow. I can't believe it!" I gushed. "How the heck did the Founders get here?! It's like, what, four thousand years since their time?"

"Wait, four thousand years?" Hashirama gasped.

"To be exact...the founding of Konoha was AS 530. The Fourth War was fifty three years later..." Jounin Uchiha said.

"And after the time of the legendary Naruto, came an era of advancement unmatched until our time. It was interrupted at AS 999 and sort of reset back to your era thanks to the Great Yokai War." Takashi continued. "And then advancement resumed at around AS 1512, which was reset as Year Zero of the founding of our Elemental Nations of Coredia. Our current time, then, is Year After Founding 3012, meaning Travis there was only off by about five hundred years."

"Hey!" I protested, making Hashirama laugh.

"Oh, dear. You remind me of myself, kid!" Hashirama laughed. I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment. Wait a minute, it's the Founder of Konoha! Of course it's a compliment!

"So, it is the Year of the Sage 4524. Hashirama, myself and our brothers were dead at least three thousand nine hundred and thirty years. Interesting. It is clear that we have much to catch up to before we are prepared for the activities of this era." Madara said. "Tell me one thing. Have there been Uchiha Hokages?"

"Many." Reika Uchiha smirked. "Fifteen of the two hundred and twelve Hokages were Uchiha and the current one is Uchiha as well. If you consider the Masaki Clan to be a derivation, that's a further ten. The first was a great-great-granddaughter of yours, Sarada. She became the Ninth. Another ancestor, my favorite, was Sango Uchiha. She became Hokage during our Great Yokai War. They, in turn serve the Shogun, the Emperor and the Avatar."

Madara smirked in return. "Interesting. I could return to my grave with that news, but alas, I wish to use this second life to learn all I can about this...Elemental Nations of Coredia, you say? I am most interested in this Great Yokai War of yours and the nature of your government...so you've united at last. I see you all are a team from all the Nations and then some."

"Yes, we have and we are. Now we shall escort you to the Hokage. He is Uchiha Kiyoshi, my grandfather." Madara nodded to begin the escort mission.

"Oh, yeah. And you'll be happy to know, Lord Hashirama, that the Senju Clan is back in business." Isamu Fujiwara said. "They came back during that big Yokai War and are a big help in the terraforming business."

"Ooh! I'd love to learn more about that!" Hashirama grinned. "Lead the way!"


----

Now

During the long meeting with the Hokages, where we traded stories of our respective time periods and showed them how to handle the technology of our day ("A device that can contact people across a million stars! AMAZING!" Hashirama gushed.) the call came from the Shogun and through my brother.

"We are now at S-Rank Emergency War Alert." The Hokage Kiyoshi Uchiha said, having just received the missive from the Stealth and Intelligence Corps. A chill went down my spine. That meant that the Elemental Nations is about to go to a total war footing. It hasn't been done since the Eldritch War! Something really bad is going down! The legends and their brothers grew serious. They knew what S-ranked anything meant, even back then. "Jounin Uchiha, Senior Chuunins Miyamoto and Yukinomaru, Junior Chuunins Masaki, Tachibana, Fujiwara, Shigemori, Haninozuka, and Genins Honda, Namikaze and Saga. Effective immediately in light of your renewed capabilities, you are returned to active service and are to be reassigned to the Secret Corps' Lotus Squad. Your orders are to go to Vanguard and retrieve the Avatar out of the way of an approaching Tyranid hive fleet."

A Tyranid hive fleet?! Here? What the hell? They're big and massive, but we could shoot them down easy enough! I thought they wouldn't even get past our sensor net! Augh. More crazy shenanigans from this epic mess!

"How bad are these Tyranids?" Itama asked, whispering to me.

"Hmm...how should I put it...you know how there's giant bugs and clans who can wield them?" I asked back.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Tyranids are like that, but much, much worse..." I launched into a quick explanation based upon what I remember of those things and Itama's eyes grew wider and wider with every tale.

"And you fight those things? Amazing." Itama exclaimed.

"And a hell of a lot of other things." I grinned. "The Elemental Nations has a pretty big rogue's gallery."

"I see..." Itama mused.

"The Lotus Squad? That's been vacant since Avatar Ness passed away." Miyamoto mentioned. Hashirama, having given an explanation of the Avatar (he even wondered if there was one in the Warring States Era that never knew his or her power), was intrigued that we were placed in a squad that served that person.

"Yes. The Shogun has seen fit to reactivate it for the new Avatar. It's a bit earlier than expected, but he believes that now is the time for the Avatar to act. With this great catastrophe, time is of the essence to get him the resources he'll need to bring balance to the galaxy once more. And he will, of course, need protection."

The Secret Corps. We've been assigned to the Secret Corps. So far, since I've graduated as a Genin, I've been assigned to the Stealth Corps under my brother's watchful eye (which annoys me to no end) and never have I thought I would get assigned to the Secret Corps. Oh, sure, I dreamed of it. Every kid knows about the exploits of the Secret Corps, although it's probably not a secret if everyone knows what you do, eh? Though I hear it's the training that's secret, since you get some super special and tough training to prepare you for the job.

Among the Military Corps, we have several main branches that each Corps fall under. We have the original branches that are mostly drawn from the Shinobi Nations, we have branches that utilize the ground forces originally created by the Samurai, and we have the branches concerned with the mystical and eldritch nasties, drawn from the Maho side of the Military Corps. We also have the Aerospace Corps and the Naval Corps, two branches concerned with starfighter combat and naval combat and those report to the Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Admiral Makoto Minamoto.

And then, we have the branch that reports directly to the Shogun and the Emperor: the Elite Corps, the best of the best, divided into five sub-branches: Stealth and Intelligence (my brother's forces), Internal Security, Imperial Guard, Secret and Scout.

We have the scary Internal Security Corps. Rumors has it that they have the ability to block any of the supernatural powers we have to put down a rogue agent, and they've purchased stuff from other lands to make it stick even farther. I mentally shuddered, thinking about my year of gloom without powers.

We have the mighty Imperial Guard, and the legendary Squad Zero is the elite of that squad. It's said that those who get to join the Imperial Guard even as short-term rookies often go on to lead the nation as Captains and Kages and a lucky few even rise high enough to become the Chancellor or Shogun or even take the Throne itself!

My father, Danshiro Masaki, was once the Captain of the Imperial Guard, but when Yoshino Matsutani decided to step down last year after a ten year reign, he was immediately appointed as Daikage of the Shinobi, the most powerful position in the United Shinobi Nations and the Captain of the Secret Corps took the spot after him. That's how much prestige the Imperial Guard gets. Grandpa still outranks him as he possesses the title of Daimyo of our lands as well as General, Deputy Supreme Commander of the Military Corps, but only just. He's supposed to be on vacation, but he hasn't called back yet.

And then there are the Secret and Scout Corps, two corps that often travel together. It's said that there's special training those two get that no other corps get and that training often leads to immediately shooting up into the elite squads of the other Corps should you get reassigned. They're the only corps in the Military Corps where, while they have an official uniform of a sailor shirt or sailor jacket and either shorts or long pants, the dress code regs are more relaxed and you get to wear whatever the hell you like so long as your performance is up to scratch.

The Avatar's Lotus Squad is the Avatar's personal squad that goes everywhere with him. That's like an extra prestigious spot and I didn't even realize that I was good enough to get in that squad! Maybe it was because I still wanted to pull my weight in the Military Corps, so I was asking around to see if I could get into the Mon Corps, who rely on 'Mons like my Pokemon in battle.

"Also, considering that this is an S-rank emergency, I am also appointing all Academy Students at the senior level to the rank of Genin. Those of you in the Lotus Squad that have younger siblings at that level may bring them along with you to serve under you until we can formally reassign them."

Hashirama frowned in disapproval at the notion of sending the younger kids into combat so soon, but his brother, Madara and Izuna nodded in approval. Izuna commented, "We could have used that kind of academy training in our day."

"Indeed. As for you four who have come out of the past, I will ask for your assistance. It seems that not only have these Tyranids hordes started nibbling at our border worlds, but there's been reports of major pirate raids in several outlying areas and some of these pirates have been employing ninjutsu, so it's likely that there's nuke-nin and AWOLs among them." The Hokage said, waving another missive that just arrived. I frowned. Nuke-nin, ninjas who desert their posts for one reason or other, are always bad news. It means trouble, for sure. AWOLs are the more generic term for deserters, but they can mean samurai or Maho deserters too. "I would like you to take a division of Konoha Shinobi from the Elite Shinobi Corps and take down those pirates. You will be joined by your counterparts from the other Nations, who have also come out of the past."

"I see. You are also testing our operational capabilities, to see if they're still good for this day and age." Hashirama noted.

"Of course." The Hokage nodded. "You will need to adjust to the battlefield of today, so do take the time to familiarize yourselves with our advances in ninjutsu and weaponry, as well as the commands you will take. Once you do, you should be as effective as you were in your day."

Hashirama, Madara and their brothers shared looks, then nodded. Hashirama spoke once more. "Then Madara, Tobi, and I shall resume our old ranks of Jounin Commander. Before I created the Kage rank, that was the highest ranks of our day. Whether we were in the past of our time or in this bright and glorious future, we will defend the home we have created and the Elemental Nations that has been birthed from our dream, for that is our Will of Fire!"

"Well said." The current Hokage nodded.

I felt another electric jolt run down my spine, and it wasn't Nami this time. This was the First Hokage and I could feel his charisma from here. Even Madara, who even now was a villain used by parents to ensure children behave or else he will use his Kamui power and drag them to Hell, seemed to be more content with his lot this time around. Maybe it's that the Uchiha have their place now and he no longer has to fight for that place. I remembered his story, as reported by Reika when she returned with his memories in her head from that Animus device, the Tragic Tale of Madara the Youkai Shinobi.

Hero. Conqueror. Savior. Destroyer.

What will you be this time, Uchiha Madara?

----

The two youngest brothers of the First Hokage were sent to the Senju Clan to learn more about this world they're in now. Shodai was greatly relieved that we have strict laws against throwing someone as young (though skilled!) as them in wartime, even though we sometimes throw twelve-year-olds like Izuna into battle during S-ranked emergencies, and that he'd no longer have to suffer the early deaths of those far-off days. Izuna chose to examine the new battlefield alongside his brother, though the Uchiha Clan made a point of shoving books into his hands to make sure he starts learning the new ways. He wasn't too happy about that, but Madara made sure that he will learn or else.

I returned home to my mom and the Family also suiting up for battle. Youkai and family servants tested their weapons, age-old swords and modern-day rifles alike and the human and half-human members readied their powers and weaponry as well. "What's going on, Mom? Is the whole clan being called up?"

"Yes. Your grandfather just ordered the Eighteenth Fleet into battle to join him at a place called Jurai. As you remember, dear, that's the Masaki Clan Fleet." Mom said, sporting her Jounin Commander battle suit. Man, I heard the stories of her and Dad...they're a scary battle couple when they get to join together!

"Grandpa came back?" I asked.

"Not quite, dear. It's a strange story. It seems there's another Coredia that just appeared into our plane of existence and Grandpa ran into those people while on vacation. You may remember the story of that prince who shares your name. The Eighteenth Fleet and two others from Konoha's fleet has been assigned to a mission in that Coredia."

"Oh, yeah. That Coredia. I thought it was dead too, but then the First Hokage showed up, so I guess it's like that famous prophecy, 'with strange aeons, even death may die'." I shook my head at all the weirdness coming down. Hold on, does that mean that there's two people named Travis Masaki in this universe? That would be so weeeeird! I don't think the universe could handle that much awesome!

Just then, my twelve year old brother came crashing in the front door with his Chimchar, breathing hard. It's clear he ran all the way home to tell the news. "Mom! Grandma! Big bro! I'm a Genin now! I don't know what's going on, but everybody in my class has been promoted right away! It's BIG news!"

"Understood, Genin Ryu!" Mom called back, disapproval of the necessity of our time in her face, but she didn't voice it. "Your first orders are to be attached to your brother until further notice!"

"'Kay!"

"That's right. Pack your bags, bro! We're going on a trip!" I called the kid, who immediately cheered and scampered upstairs to get packing. "Mom, guess I'd better get ready. I'm being assigned to the Lotus Squad."

"Oh, but that's wonderful!" Mom exclaimed. Then turned serious. "You understand what that means. It means the Avatar's life is in the hands of the Masaki Clan, through you and your brother, and in the hands of the Clans assigned to that Squad. You will be his guardian and his Sage when you master the Art of Fire. Where he goes, you go, even into Hell itself if need be and what he commands, you will do as well. And furthermore, Secret Corps training is no picnic. You must pass and gain prestige not just for the Clan, but for yourself as well."

"Yes, Mom." I nodded. "It's a big responsibility for me, I know. But I'll ace it all, because that's what Travis Masaki will be, the ace of aces!"

Mom just laughed and shook her head. "Well, Ace of Aces, best get yourself ready. By the way, the Scout Ship Sunflare has been assigned to your mission. You'll find it waiting at the main spaceport."

"Okay!" I scampered up to my own room and began gathering the things I need for the trip. Thank goodness for backpacks of holding! A couple pairs of black T-shirts and mesh undershirts. A couple pairs of dark blue tees with the Leaf symbol on their backs. A few pairs of red ones, and white ones. My cargo shorts and cargo pants. Because when you need to stuff every weapon under the sun into your pockets, there's no better gear! And of course, my variety of red jackets, shirts, vests, fingerless gloves and a few spare red caps. And finally, a few spare combat socks, shoes and boots. And last, but not least, my Go-Goggles and my Leaf band. The Go-Goggles still have useful features even if I don't need the spirit reveal part anymore, like examining enemies for weaknesses. That kind of thing is all the rage these days and most everyone sports them nowadays. And my Leaf band is the symbol of where I come from, so that I never forget what I'm fighting for.

All of my clothes looked ordinary, but they've been specially treated at sealing shops to resist the wide variety of battle conditions one could imagine, though they're best at resisting explosion and incendiary effects, even above the natural Masaki resistance to high-temperature attacks. Hell, even a civilian-class T-shirt can stop a bullet, and that's half of why it takes so much to kill a Coredian, the other half being our top-quality academies, where even washouts are taught to survive whatever's thrown at them.

Having selected my clothes and toiletries for the trip, I wrapped my Leaf band around my arm and tied it tight, then turned to my Pokemon. "Ready, guys?"

"Ready as I'll ever be!" Blitz wagged his tail in excitement.

"Of course. With luck, I will be a Charizard soon. Then the enemy will really fear the flames!" Ronyx grinned.

"Ready when you are, boss!" Nami said, clambering up my shoulder once more.

I nodded. "Then let's go!"

Down the hall, Ryu also came out of his room, alongside his Chimchar and a Chinchou. Ooh, that Chinchou's good thinking to cover our common Fire weakness to Water and Earth and Chimchar in turn will cover it's Grass weakness, though maybe I should get him a Fletchling or another Flying type to cover Ground type attacks. Eh, he's smart enough to figure it out and capture something. Ryu's wearing a yellow long-sleeved shirt, navy blue fingerless gloves and a red vest like mine, a pair of cargo shorts, combat sneakers and a red-and-blue cap atop hair that's wilder than mine and tied back like our brother's. Heh. Maybe I should grow out my hair a bit like that. That way, we'd have matching ponytails. "Ready, little bro?"

"I'm ready! We're gonna go down to the family armory, right?" Ryu asked.

"Yep. We need all the ammo we can get, because the enemy we might have to fight are big nasty bugs that'll eat you in one gulp!" I grinned at the frightened look on his face. I'm allowed to tease him. "But so long as you stick with me, everything's cool, alright!"

"Right!" Ryu nodded.

We headed down into the mansion basement, where it looks like a bunch of the family was also waiting to get their weapons. We Masakis specialize in armor-piercing incendiary weapons, meaning we can cook our enemies from the inside out. Everything about us revolve around flames and to a slightly lesser extent, lightning and plasma, so our powers and technology are optimized around dishing out the fire and lessening opponent's own dishing of fire. Like, the higher ups could sit in a lava bath all day and only feel like being in a sauna. For that reason, we have a close affinity with dragons and phoenixes and other fire-wielding mystical creatures and Youkai and we can open a wormhole to the elemental plane of fire if we needed extra firepower or to shove someone there we don't like to burn for all eternity.

At the highest levels, we can create 'Golden Fire'. Bona fide hydrogen-burning nuclear fireballs with a gold light that we can touch, control and manipulate with our bare hands is the highest level of what a Masaki is capable of. So far, Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, Mom and Shuichi, and various other relatives have mastered that Solar Release ability, and Ryu and I hope to follow in their footsteps soon enough.

Our weakness, of course, is Water and Earth, so we have frequent rivalries with the water-wielding Shigemori Clan and the Earth-manipulating Fujimora Clan, though I'm good friends with Shigeru and I argue too much with Isami to get along with the Fujiwara scion. Still, I hope to burn them both out at the next Grand Tournament!

As soon as the line recognized us, we were advanced to the front. It does pay to be in the main branch, the direct line all the way to Lord Kohaku himself. Ooh, I noticed a strange sensation, the common one that warned us that shoggoth security was active and we'd better not try any funny business. Shoggoths are likely to eat you first and ask questions later, after all and because of their gelatinous nature, they're one of the few creatures that are resistant to Konoha's firey techniques, so they make good guards around here. If they don't digest you, the local ANBU will do worst to you!

My brother and I passed through a biometric door into the vast armory of the Masaki Clan If we didn't have the emergency, intruders who managed to get past the shoggoth guards would have been sucked into a pocket dimension for punishment, and before today, my brother wouldn't have been allowed into the armory without an adult for that reason, so today's his lucky day.

"It's like a weird dream. I can't believe I'm allowed here at last." Ryu exclaimed, his eyes shining in awe. "Show me everything, big bro!"

"Hahaha! I can't show you everything. Not the nukes or the Creation torpedoes or the planck crackers, of course." Of course we have superweapons in our high-security vaults. Every family who can afford it does, tailored to their specific taste. Ours involve producing unholy amounts of energy to fry, vaporize or outright disintegrate our foes. After experiencing the Eldritch War and the near-annihilation of most of our clans, no Clan would take chances with our existence ever again. There's even more powerful weapons in the Apocalypse Vault at the Mobile City, but even I don't know what they are. "But I can show you the stuff you need to kill hive mind bugs dead."

"Yay!" Ryu cheered. He seems so happy, but I knew that battle will rub the innocence out of him and battles against swarms of gigantic monstrous Tyranids would be even more nasty. Sigh. What can you do?

"Okay..." I looked through the pistols first. "Take those. Masaki Specials. Ordinary pistols on the outside, armor-piercing plasma rounds on the inside. Excellent for piercing heavy armor like Tyranid bone. Has a replication mag, so you should be fine as long as you remember to duck and reload."

"Sure." My brother and I took a utility belt with a pistol each. Feels good to have them on my waist after being inactive for so long.

That's our sidearm. Melee sidearms? Hmm...both of us grabbed the standard shuriken and kunai holsters with the replicator option. They're...not the best, but they are classic weapons of the shinobi and can be used for many things. On the next shelf came the longer-range melee options: lightsabers, chakra projector blades, power swords, axes and spears...so many to choose, so little time. Ehh, I'll take a chakra projector and a backup power sword. Chakra projectors are excellent for versatility, as you can make anything you've got the imagination and chakra for, but you need a good pool or else they won't last long. Lightsabers are a bit more finicky in the hands of someone who's not a swordsman and I have the chakra to spare, so I won't use any for this theater. Hmm...for Ryu, who's smaller than I, he'll need to have something with a bit of range, especially to handle Tyranids. "Try this. Wukong Power Staff. I know you and Chimchar are skilled in the Sarutobi Monkey Fist style, so this should be good for you."

"Thanks!" Ryu handled it like a pro, whirling the staff above his head and then slapping it down hard with a low stance. "It's in good shape! I like the feel of it!"

"Good. It'll grow and shrink to suit your needs, so make sure you make use of that option." I commented as I clasped the chakra projector onto my utility belt. Next, I went to the long-ranged guns section.

Let's see...none of the bullpups or shotguns will do much good. I'm going to need something with good range, ROF, and lethality. But which rifle? Hmm...maybe the standard-issue Material/Energy Rifle? It's an assault rifle that you can use to switch between a lasgun mode and a high-velocity slug mode. Has good range, ROF and the bullets are larger versions of the armor-piercing pistol rounds, but not as big as antimaterial rounds. It's no sniper, but even I can hit a target out to a kilometer on a good day with it. I selected one with a grenade launcher option. "Hey, Ryu. Take the rifles with the grenade option. It'll do you good if you take care of it."

"'Kay." Ryu replied, taking one of the rifles and aiming with it before nodding. "Good quality."

Next, we headed over to the bombs section. I immediately went to grab some Gemini Grenades. These are grenades made in Albion, designed to explode, replicate into two more for every explosion, then explode some more until the spellwork expends itself. Also, I grabbed several packs of Multi-Bottle Rockets, Pencil Rockets and Sprinting Bombs from Terra, which all have wide AOE. Excellent for cutting into wave attacks. I followed up with a stock of Konoha's patented Plasma Grenades, and a roll of classic explosive tags. Hmm...Dornalian Psyk-Out grenades? Expensive to procure, but...what do I remember about Tyranids? They're a psychic hive mind that use that weird Warp stuff that we Coredians never touch, right? So maybe grab a couple for emergencies?

Eh, better to have and not need, after all.

"Okay, because we're dealing with swarms of alien locusts, we should take explosives with high capability in taking out swarms of the things. That means plasmas, Gemini, Sprinting Bombs and whatever else we can think of and remember our Shadow Shuriken jutsu to stretch them even more. Now, let's see what we can get here..." I mused.

"I think we should go for Iga Cluster Munitions, Spiran Chaos Grenades, Hellfire mortars, and a mortar gun." Ryu said. "We'll need more area-clearing stuff than that, though."

"Yeah, good idea. Laser Beam Shredders. Disintegration bombs. Sealing bombs. Hey, why do they look like Pokeballs?" I frowned.

"Maybe because Pokeballs were originally a sealing device and they're easy to throw? But they can't be used to tame Tyranids, sadly."

"Mmm. Shame." Ryu and I took the aforementioned bombs and slid them into my backpack. Looking into the shelf, I saw a few really powerful bombs. "Mega-Sealing Bomb. Guaranteed to seal an army. Singularity Bomb. Void Bomb. Eldritch bomb?! Is it really a good idea to summon eldritch creatures against Tyranids or throw a singularity at things?"

"We're a really crazy people sometimes." Ryu shrugged. "The Mega-Sealer and Void bombs are safer, though."

"Not by much. If you're sucked in by those things, that's it for you." I said, taking a pair of the bombs. If a boss Tyranid shows up, maybe these will be good to use as a last resort if we can't kill them any other way.

"Is that it?" Ryu asked, looking down at the rather large collection of bombs in his backpack. "Think we need more?"

"If we need more, we could just ask the procurement shops. They give discounts in bulk. I don't want to raid too much of the Masaki Clan armory." I shrugged. "Finally, let's go to the last section. Accessories and Items."

"Oooh. We need Elixirs!" Ryu said, rushing over to raid the potions section. Yeah, that's a good idea. Don't want to run out of chakra in the middle of combat. That's bad!

While he raided the potions section, I took a look at the accessories. Terran Standard Shields are hexagonal shields that glow green when they block light and medium blows, but heavy blows can break them. Not much good against the melee hordes of Tyranids. We want something better than that. Bio-alien hordes, probably going to involve acid spitting, horrible teeth and claws, and maybe even weirder things like being digested alive for weeks. I want nothing of the sort! So that means...

I dug around for the right accessories for me and my brother. Let's see here...

Acids and bases confer the Poisoned status, so if you can prevent that, and it's like being splashed with water or breathing air. But if you get splashed in the eyes, you're Blinded and Crying Uncontrollably, so you have to get your eyes healed or even replaced. So I need something that prevents both. Go-Goggles can prevent Blindness and Uncontrollable Crying (and can prevent ordinary shrapnel from getting in there), so I'm good there. My brother will need...

I grabbed a Fairy Ring for Ryu and an Gaian Amulet for myself. "Here you go!"

"Thanks!" Ryu put on the Fairy Ring and I put on the Amulet.

That's one item for each of us. We need a second item, optimized towards protecting us from melee attacks. So that means...

Aha! Guardian Bracelets. Confers excellent protection against physical and magical attacks in the form of a silvery sphere of Protect and Shell energy around your body. In battle against the kind of hordes we expect, this is the best protection barring custom-made accessories. "Here. Put this on your arm, Ryu."

"Right. Oh, those are Guardian Bracelets. Very expensive stuff!" Ryu exclaimed as he put his on his right wrist. "Neat! I feel stronger already!"

"Just don't get cocky." I grinned as I equipped my own bracelet. "I think that's everything. Anything else we need, we can order later or buy from the field stores."

"Right. Let's go, then." Ryu replied.

Like cool heroes from a holofilm, we strode back upstairs to cheering Masaki Clan members as we headed up towards the front door. There, Inari and Ryu's retainer Shinji were waiting for us.

"Take a good look. It's the last you'll see of the Masaki Mansion." Inari grinned.

"So take care of yourselves, don't get lost and don't get eaten by anything!" Shinji said, holding back tears as best he could. Ah, he's always been the most emotional of us.

I couldn't help it. Ryu and I hugged Inari and Shinji. Even though they're our servants, we've never treated them any less than brothers of the family. "You do the same. Crack some heads for Grandpa, okay?"

"Sure will." Inari grinned.

Ryu and I turned to see our mother grin, holding two thumbs up in support. We waved back and then rushed out the door towards the spaceport.

It's time to go!

-----

Sai-class Scout Frigate Sunflare


"Ah, there's the Masaki slowpokes!" Isami Fujiwara yelled loudly as we passed the gate to the Scout Ship's docking bay. "You're late and late!"

"Oh, shut up, idiot." I groused. Ryu stuck his tongue out at him. Isami's little brother Yuki stuck his tongue out back and they glared Avada Kedavras at each other. Even though they're brothers, the Fujiwara Clan does have a habit of turning into girls (or boys if they're female) whenever someone splashes cold water on them, so it's kinda like they're their own sisters at the same time. "It's still fifteen minutes before we launch, so I'm right on time!"

"Yeah, well, I've been ready since before you got up, slowpoke! In my book, that still makes you late!" Isami grinned nastily at me.

"Oh, yeah?" I yelled.

"Yeaaaah!!" Isami grinned.

Suddenly, we got drenched at the same time by Shigeru and his own little sister. I shuddered at the sudden cold and Isami turned into a girl, and we both glared at them.

"What the hell was that for?!" We yelled, then glared at each other, then turned away, folding our arms in disgust at each other.

"Best to spray the kittens every so often so that they behave." Shigeru grinned to his little sister Sushi, who giggled back.

"Of course, Shigeru-niisan." Sushi laughed.

Grumbling, we took out towels (never leave those at home) and shook the water off. Isami will need to get some hot water in order to change back, so she's stuck for a while.

"Can you two stop arguing for one minute?" Oh, Sasami Tachibana and her cousin Haruno Yamanaka, who happens to be in my brother's class! And yes, that's her Emolga on her hat. We've been dating on and off since I rescued her from the Quark bastards, and our families are negotiating certain details in case we really hit it off. We are in unison, of course, that clan politics just get in the way of things taking their course.

"Yeah. Rowlet and I are taking bets on how long before I have to use Silence on you two." Takashi Yukinomaru, the Shogun's grandson and the one voted most likely to reach that high, smiled mysteriously like the Mage he is. A Rowlet's on his head, chuckling at our chagrin. Nami looked like she wanted to give a jolt to the owl Pokemon, but I held her back. Takashi, unlike most of us, is an only child and doesn't have any close cousins younger than he is, so depending on who you ask, he's either lucky or unlucky.

"If you all are ready to go, let's take a head count, all right?" Yahiko called us together. He and Miyazaki Miyamoto, sons of the legendary canine youkai Miyamoto Clan, walked up to the rest of us, alongside their Riolu. Both of them are sporting katanas on their belts and rifles on their backs, as befitting a Samurai Clan and it turns out that Yahiko has a thing for me, too. Which is kinda awkward, since I don't know yet how I feel about him when I already have feelings for Sasami, but it's said that the legendary Kohaku and Musashi, our ancestors, spent their lives together, so I wonder if history's habit of repeating itself is coming back here. We'll see.

So besides those of us already introduced, there's the bouncy Mitsukuni "Hunny" Haninozuka and more stern and cultured Yasuchika Haninozuka, the Rabbit Style clan that manipulates wind like the Tachibana Clan clan. You wouldn't think it, but despite being shorter by like half a foot and having a kawaii complex, Hunny's the older one. "I'm ready, hehe!"

"Just don't embarrass the clan too much, bro." Chika sighed.

Next up is Yukie "Tracker" Honda, member of the powerful Sensor-nin Honda clan. They may not seem like much to other clans, but their ability to enhance their senses and detect things more deeply than any other clan make them a valuable asset to any team like ours. She is a Genin aiming to be a Chuunin, and she's watching over her twin siblings, Taichi and Chiyo. "Sup. I'm ready." "Yo!" "I'm ready too!"

The second Genin is Sumaru Namikaze, part of the Namikaze Clan, a side branch to the Uzumakis, since they share the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze as ancestor. They specialize in simply being fast. Whether using speed or teleportation, they're one of the clans that can cut your head off before you can blink. Sumaru himself has been taken under the wing of a Samurai and it's actually a toss up on who's faster in the draw, Sumaru or Yahiko. Another valuable asset, considering our upcoming enemy. He's watching over his sister, Juno.

Finally, Jiro "Bomber" Saga, a loud and stout guy from the same Iwagakure no Sato as the Fujiwara Clan. The Saga Clan is a mixed clan of Shinobi and Mages that specializes in making explosives and explosive spells, like the kind I have in my bag. If I have a lot, then he's probably got a whole armory in his own backpack. He also wields the Explosion Release style and, yes, Explosion Symbology. His clan's Pokemon also specialize in...you guessed it, Self-Destruct and Explosion so the clan also invests in revival potions and Phoenix Downs. Yeah, like the Masaki Clan symbolizes fire and the sun, the Saga Clan symbolizes explosives. For the swarm of alien locusts we need to deal with, he's the best at the job at making sure they explode and explode good. Chances are, he'll become Chuunin too after this mission. He and his brother Shugo will be joining us as well.

And finally, the recently promoted Jounin Reika Uchiha and her brother Riku, who's also in Ryu's class, have arrived precisely when they're meant to arrive back-to-back in a swirl of leaves. Besides the famous Sharingan, they specialize in fire and lightning like we Masakis do, but not quite to the same extent, preferring to advance to the Plasma or Blaze Release style. They also have a strong magical streak and sometimes focus on magic instead of chakra, but Reika's been training among the Black Mages for a while and is pretty eager to show that she can mix the Shinobi and Maho styles into one powerful force of nature. It's to my slight chagrin that she was the other one on my team with Hunny, and yet she managed to advance to Jounin in just three years. That's gotta be a record! But I'm used to it her being my immediate CO (even if I don't have to like it), and she better watch out, because I'm going to catch up quick!

"Whoa, bro. That's a big crowd!" Exclaimed a voice. Hey, that's Lucas! Member of Scout Team 327, he and his twin brother Claus are about a couple years older than I am and are experienced Senior Chuunin with their first command, that cool ship of theirs. If I remember right, Lucas specializes in wind and water techniques and his brother specialize in earth and fire techniques, including summoning lava on helpless enemies. They'll be a great help on the ground, but they prefer the Scout way of getting out of dodge when the heat's too intense.

"That's right! But don't worry! We've got enough room on our ship for all of ya. Get ready to board! We leave in five!" Claus yelled over the din of the crowds beyond the docking bay.

"Very well! This is it, boys and girls. We are off to form the Avatar's Lotus Squad. Let's get a move on!" Reika ordered.

Without further ado, we boarded the ship, where strange little creatures called Mr. Saturn went "Boing!" in excitement and showed us the passenger's quarters. The passenger space was clearly larger than the inner surface area normally required for a light frigate like the Sunflare, a product of advanced space-time magitek, Coredia's bread and butter.

My brother and I took a room with two beds, a small dresser, a Pokeball case for our Pokemon to sleep in and a holocomputer deskstation in case we wanted to play games or chat online or something. "Well, on our way to meet Avatar Joshua."

"You know the Avatar? What's he like?" Ryu asked.

"Well, he's about your age and he's a nice kid with green hair. Very determined to surpass all the past Avatars. He's an orphan, you know, but he doesn't hold it against him. He's got this little Triple S gang that was with him back on Midgard and we packed them off to the Scout Corps so that ShinraCorp doesn't take them for their own, better that way and they do have some skill in pickpocketing that Captain Namikaze likes to have. I don't know if they've finished training yet, but if there's anyone else who can drop by for additional support, it's those people. Though by now, it'd be like a whole platoon all supporting the Avatar, heh. You'd like him."

"Really? I hope we get along."

"You will. He's not like, stuffy or anything. Like I said, he was an orphan who hasn't got much, so a bunch of friends all helping make sure he gets to his full power and authority is like the biggest present in the universe for him." I smiled, petting Nami and Blitz. "So...let's be his friends, his Nakama, okay? That's more important than being his guardians."

"Right." Ryu grinned back.

After a couple minutes, Lucas came onto the comms. "This is your captain speaking. Please be welcome to Scout Corps Spacelines where we take you anywhere, anytime and no complaining about the flight!"

I snorted in amusement as I rested on my bed.

"Wave your hand and you'll be able to open up a holoscreen of the area around us." I did just that and whoa, it's like our wall just disappeared and we could see everything, including the wings just below! So much better than a window seat!

I felt a sensation as the frigate started moving on its wheels. A small truck rolled the ship backwards out to the tarmac and we heard the hum of engines as the twins obviously made sure they're ok. Then we started rolling forwards towards a runway. It's like one of those old-school airplane flights that you sometimes see on Terra or Dornalia, except that we can obviously go into space.

There was intermittent talk on the intercom. Something about space monsters and space turbulence. Jeez I hope this trip doesn't go bad.

"This is your captain speaking. We will be heading towards Vanguard, a two thousand lightyear trip that will take about twelve hours. We apologize for the delay. We could do it less than half an hour, but we will be expecting major space turbulence and a high chance of space eldritch activity along all our hyper routes, so we'll be taking the long way around. We Scouts take the safety of our passengers seriously, but we don't expect a comfortable trip. Sorry!"


Well, that won't wash with a spaceliner company! Still, can't exactly get another ship. The Scout and Secret Corps have the fastest ships in the Elemental Nations. But man! I don't wanna be eaten by space cthulhus! I was eaten by one when I was four and I never quite overcame that experience! Granted, I think it was trying to say 'hello' or it thought I would make a quick snack, but still!

The frigate headed up to the takeoff tarmac and in moments, we were rolling down the tarmac with the piercing-roaring sound of modern-day jet fans. No matter that we've had VTOL craft for thousands of years, the rolling takeoff is still one of my favorite ways of leaving a planet. And suddenly, we were in the air, heading up vertically, with only the inertial plates underneath the floor keeping us from tumbling everywhere. The jet roar faded as the air got thin, another sensation occurred as we stopped accelerating for a second, then whooooosh!

We shot out out of the atmosphere as blue turned into black and stared out at the stars for the first time in months. The real stars of the galaxy and the artificial stars of the thousands of ships and space stations all came together to gleam the glory of the Elemental Nations.

"This is your captain speaking. We are on final approach to Hyperlane number 392. We will be entering Gravitic Warp with our Double FTL System. Please hold while we wait for a few ships in our path."

As we waited to head into Gravitic Warp, I could see the ships ahead of us accelerating, their bows releasing some kind of blue bubbles that surrounded the ships and then they were gone in streaks of blue light. Amazing technology! We are also capable of popping from one position to another without much fanfare with the Hiraishin Drive and also capable of sort of "sliding" several degrees in and out of reality with the Eldritch Drive, but that last one is restricted to military travel. For now, I got to enjoy what was coming in a few minutes.

"Captain speaking. We are on final approach to Gravitic Warp. Please prepare for warp turbulence immediately!"

Soon, it was our turn. We moved towards a certain spot in space. I could hear the whine of the engines accelerate and see a massive blue sphere build in front of the ship's bow...and suddenly...we were gone and nothing but blue streaks flew outside.

Gravitic Warp Activation
(2:50-3:00)

Vanguard, here we come!

[CoreWorlds]

OOC: Because I broke the character limit, here's Part Two of my humungous Travis Masaki post!

IC:

--------

Several Hours Before, Sparta

My name is Travis Samuel Masaki and I am the last Jedi.

No, wait. That's not quite true. There's still quite a few in the galaxy, but I'd say it's safe to say that I'm the last of the Jedi that are capable of stopping Janus Masaki, aka Darth Styx and save the galaxy from an eternity of Dark Side-fueled Chaos madness. And far be it for me to be immodest, but I'd say that I'm the only Coredian, or to be precise, the only member of the Masaki Royal Family left with the power to stop him.

From our secret base on the planet simply known as Shinobi, we members of the Padawan Pack formulated a course of action to strike deep into the heart of the reborn Sith Empire and put Darth Styx's head on a pike. Easier said than done, of course. We had the remaining members of the legendary Nine Biju, minus the Nine-Tailed Fox in my lost Sensei's belly, and we had nothing left to lose.

It was a desperate mission with a desperate goal: to end my cousin's insanity once and for all. The Galactic Empire became a horrible abomination fueled by Chaos mixed with the Dark Side in an unholy combination that would destroy the entire galaxy under his command. And we, the Padawan Pack, the youngsters who were going to take charge of Coredia's future someday, were the only ones who could stop it.

So we stole a Super Star Destroyer from an Imperial shipyard with the help of my Cylon friend David, a single ship, a single dagger, and plunged it into the heart of the Chaos Sith Empire, into a Sparta where the Chaos Star is boldly placed within the Imperial Symbol (or is it without? My head hurts just looking at them!) on every skyscraper in sight. While the Empire was busy destroying the extremely powerful ship that was commanded by a Chief AI who took over the controls, the rest of us boarded Raptors and Heavy Raiders and jumped through the planetary shields.

"Well, that was a mess and there's more to come." I muttered as Nick Kingfisher, my best friend and sharpshooter took point, his Holy Battle Rifle at the ready. We were on an outcropping overseeing the massive complex of Castle Styx, Janus' hideaway. There's a hot wind blowing, snatching at my black short-sleeved shirt over a blue T-shirt tunic with my utility belt belted around the waist and black cargo pants. Nick's a brown-haired kid about my age (sixteen, of course) wearing BDUs and a stealth cloak, all the better to blend in with the environment, because as someone who's trained as a Sniper, he'll need all the stealth prowess he can get.

"Well, at least the Biju are taking care of the distraction." Kagome Outerbridge, my other best friend said, twirling a staff lit with fire and ice jutsus as the wind blew through her brown hair, firey red and ice blue qipao jacket and short shorts.

I heard a distant roar and saw the distant explosion of a Biju Bomb exploding. "Looks like Gyuki and the other Biju are having fun."

"So let's get this squared away while the Chaos Sith army is busy." Keith Masaki, my older cousin and a Summoner, said. He has his hair partially blond and brown at all times and wears a black T-shirt with white designs and khaki cargoes. He also wields a phrik staff in combat. "Time to take care of our cousin once and for all."

"And make it out in one piece." Shinji Ikari said. He's one of my other best friends and one of the traditional Jedi in the Padawan Pack along with his friends Asuka the Guardian, Kensuke the jack-of-all-trades strategist (who takes after his grandfather, Grand Admiral Pellaeon), Toji the Jedi gunslinger (who, like Nick, uses guns as his primary weapon and lightsabers as a backup), Rei the consular and Kaworu the all-rounder (and Shinji's paramour that we all tease them about, teehee!).

"Well, let's just say that I'm ready to take 'em all down there." Nawaki Uzumaki, the first son of my sensei Naruto, grinned. He has another brother and a sister, but last I checked, the other boy was still training under Sensei Konohamaru and the girl's still an Academy student and lives on Shinobi with her mother Hinata.

Nawaki and Boruto get in arguments all the time, as Nawaki takes after his dad more often and Boruto resents the attention of being a second son, but at least they do get along when the chips are down...mostly.

"Not without a plan, you won't, you idiot." Reika Uchiha, the first daughter of my sensei's best friend/rival Sasuke, replied sharply. "Unless you wish to die to a Bloodthirster's axe, of course. Be my guest."

"Ahh! You burst my heart again!" Nawaki pretended to whine. Everyone knows he's got the hots for Reika, but there's no telling if the persistence would hold. Boruto and his rival teammate, Reika's sister Sarada, are opposites, but maybe they could make it up and be the family that ties Uchiha and Uzumaki together. Who knows?

And here they are, swooping down from a stealth scouting flight! The dragon Ryujin, who's actually my father's dragon, but in human form, is a silver-haired Jedi Padawan due to his age and my other friends Wataru and Hunny rode his back to scout out the scenery. Wataru was a kid I once found in a crate back at Castle Nightshade on Tenetia. He's a black-haired boy with a white hoodie and a gakuen jacket over blue jeans and he has a strange ability to neutralize powers of all kinds. He's completely immune, too, which makes it tough for him to heal without the copious amounts of bacta, so he's our medic and Badass Normal of the group. With training, he's learned to turn his Neutralization power on and off like a switch, so he's the real trump card against Janus' evil schemes. If I can get him close and cut Janus off from the Dark Side, the Warp and his chakra all at once, the shock should be enough for him to shoot him full of blaster bolts and for me to pump him full of bullets from a Colonial pistol.

That's basically what I planned for him, to cheat him of the battle he so wants and to kill him with a weapon I stole from the Twelve Colonies the day I went AWOL from the Fleet and still own as a last-resort weapon. It will be the final insult for a Sith to be killed by a "normal weapon" and I wasn't feeling particularly merciful after all Janus has done. Sure, my feelings are against the Jedi Code, but I've decided I could live with it.

Colonial training gave me quite the sense of perspective, it seems.

Hunny Haninozuka is the "Yoda" of our group. It's not that he's old. He's actually a couple years older than us, part of Keith and Haruka's Genin team but he looks far younger and shorter. What I meant is that he's the fastest and most athletic of us all, meaning he can bounce all over the place, throwing tornadoes and using his lightsaber like a blender, making short work of our enemies.

"Hey, guys! Don't forget that I'm going to do my part, too!" A tiny voice came from my pocket. Cody is a blond boy about an inch tall and is another important part of our group. He's a Koropokkuru from the future, where people like him were born from a union of Coredian and Cylon bloodlines into a unique form of Coredian called a Realian. I hope to find a way to get his people reborn, but I wouldn't even know where to start! He, along with David, are our cyber experts, to help bring down the cybernetic defenses within Castle Styx or even take control of the droids there.

"Indeed. A shame we don't have the World Devastator anymore. I could have made use of it for this plan." A brown-haired boy named David smiled. He's a Cylon hybrid and one of the toughest people I've ever known. And if anyone calls him a mere droid, they can talk to me...or find their skulls caved in!

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Let's get it together. What do we have on the enemy?"

"Much of the enemy has been drawn away to fight the Biju, but as you can see, there's still quite a few." Ryujin said, looking down at the field below. "Not much cover, so we'll have no choice but to rush them and do so quickly before they have a chance to reinforce their forces here. I could sense Sith Lords, some of the last few from that big Palpatinist ritual that happened years ago, and pretty much a full division of stormtroopers and Chaos Imperial Guardmen, a Company of Chaos Space Marines and daemons. Oh, yes. We have daemons here. Janus' summoned Greater Daemons commanding a legion from each of the Four Gods. I'm just glad we're all packing Holy weapons for this theater."

We nodded. Half of the battle is knowing what we can expect and we're all packing holy weapons and anti-daemon defenses. Even our lightsaber crystals have been changed into Holy Kybers, a very rare crystal type that can only be found in a few places in the galaxy, including Shinobi.

The best we can say is that Janus is typical Sith Overlord, with the overconfidence to spare. He's learned much at the feet of Darth Vader and his mom and all the other Sith Lords, and he's gained the favor of the Chaos Gods, not to mention he has powerful Jounin-level ninjutsu, gravity powers that could crush an entire army in one blow or summon a black hole to suck in and destroy his foes. I'm pretty much counting on him letting us live long enough to sacrifice us all to his Gods and open a gateway to the Warp, letting loose a new Black Crusade to sunder the Galaxy and bring everything crashing down. And I'm also counting on him not sensing our trump card. I can't sense him and the Sith that keep dying when he shoots them can't either, but there's always a normal guy who can report back to him, and Janus might remember Wataru as one of those Imperial projects of some kind.

It's a thin plan, and we all knew it. Relying on your enemy's overconfidence and a long shot attack from an unexpected direction is not exactly a great plan, but it's all we had. Plus, David threw in some Centurions from the Heavy Raiders as backups.

"Alright. David, signal the Raiders to attack the castle as we planned. Rest of us, lock and load. We're going in!" I ordered.

Before long, a trio of Heavy Raiders flew in and spat heavy metal missile to blow up the barren field, then disgorged Cylon Centurions that swarmed into the enemy Stormtroopers and Guard, shooting at them with high velocity slugs and stabbing into them with their wicked-sharp claws. They fought like metal demons and made just enough of a commotion for us to have a chance of getting into the castle.

Keith summoned Varactyls, dragon-like lizards that can ride as fast as a speeder, and we all got on our respective rides and rode down to the field. Ryujin jumped into the air, becoming his large silver-dragon self and spat out silver fireballs that were so hot, they melted right through the armor of stormtroopers and Chaos Marines alike.

Then we slammed into the enemy, hacking with our lightsabers or shooting with our blasters, whichever we preferred first. We didn't stop for anything, just charged straight into the teeth of the monsters and didn't stop until we passed through the gates, along with about three-quarters of the Centurions and laid waste to the castle, killing everything we met.

We fought through so many hordes of daemons, chimeras, stormtroopers, Chaos sorcerers and even Sith that at times, even I wasn't sure how I was gonna make it to the main chambers. But somehow, we all managed to survive and most importantly, to keep Wataru alive. It helps that most of the supernatural forces couldn't even get near him and disappeared in puffs of logic when he pointed and shot at them. The few that could were wrecked easily by the rest of us.

Then I sensed Janus and we surged forth as one unstoppable team, heading deeper and deeper into the castle until we hit a vast complex filled to the brim with eye-searing Chaos symbols and in the center, wearing a black collared shirt and pants and a Sith cloak, was my cousin.

Janus Tiberius Masaki, son of Nightshade and Remiel's brother Chaos. Dark Lord of the Sith and a champion of Chaos.

Girls would say he's handsome and I've no doubt that he'd be able to have his pick of women to have a dark heir with if he so chose. Maybe he did, who knows? But in his eyes, I knew the truth. They were glowing with a faint combination of purple and yellow. Purple for warp-fire and yellow for his descent into the depths of the Dark Side.

"Aah. Dear cousin. I applaud you for coming this far. A shame my brothers won't be here to see this, but they are next after I'm through with you." Janus grinned.

"It's over, Janus. I'm putting you down like the mad dog you are." I said, advancing slowly with my golden lightsaber, along with two of my friends, Shinji and Nawaki. As per the plan, Shinji, being the best duelist on the team and Nawaki's Uzumaki unpredictability will be the first strike to whittle away the Dark Lord's power, then Wataru will strike when he gets the chance. The young Sith Lord ignited his own blade, a searing red that no doubt had a crystal infused with an unholy mix of Sith alchemy and Chaos magic. All the better to kill me with.

"Perhaps it is an ending...or perhaps it's a beginning." Janus grinned. "You all will be sacrificed for the glory of the Dark Gods and I shall at last take my Uncle's place as Warmaster of a new Black Crusade. Let me tell you. I have taken thousands of years to get back to this time. Thousands of years to plan my revenge against all my foes. From you, to Hawkins, to all the rest of the mewling fools of this galaxy, you are nothing more than a bountiful feast for my new friends...and for the glorious future of Chaos--hey!"

As he monologued, I focused and teleported, managing to land a good right hook on his pretty boy face. "You talk too much, cousin! Just get in your grave already!"

He growled, launching a vicious blow that I caught with my lightsaber, our blades clashing brightly as holy and infernal energy warred against each other. "You first, MasakI!"

That seemed like a signal, as even as Shinji, Nawaki and I began to duel the Dark Lord, a massive quartet of Greater Daemons from each of the four Chaos Gods slammed into the crowd of friends that I brought with me. Holy rifles zinged, blowing chunks out of their bodies, lightsabers flashed, blocking blows and searing flesh. The Great Unclean One was the one attacked the most, as he was the biggest immediate threat to our health, trying to poison us with his plague magic. But Ryujin was on him. His dragon nature allowed him to resist the plague attacks and he set the monster on fire with the cleansing flames of his silver breath.

The Lord of Change was attacked by Keith and Haruka. Keith summoned his three dragons against the gigantic bird-like daemon and Haruka used his alchemy to transform the floor into a lethal forest of constantly stabbing spikes to keep the Lord of Change on its toes.

The Keeper of Secrets, an alluring yet dangerous daemoness, were attacked by the girls in our group. Kagome was in the lead, flinging fire from one end of her staff and ice on the other in an endless display of elemental energy, while Reika's Sharingan allowed her to dispel the illusions cast by the Keeper and she summoned powerful flames from her mouth to burn at it and Asuka and Rei made sure that their lightsabers found their way into the Secret's body, even as she gasped in ecstasy at the pain.

The final daemon, the Bloodthirster, was perhaps the most dangerous due to the speed of his axe, and the other members of the team focused their firepower on him. Nick and Toji poured on the holy blaster bolts while David and the few remaining Centurions blasted away with high-velocity railslugs.

Kaworu, Kensuke, Wataru and Hunny fought the daemons that poured into the area after their masters, killing them with swift blows so that they didn't harass us. And finally, tiny Cody, unnoticed by the carnage, did his best to figure out the secret of the Chaos sorcery in the room so he can destroy the mechanism and disrupt Janus' plans.

And he did. He found a strange technomagical device surrounded by computers corrupted by scrap code and all manner of strange devices. He didn't bother with much more than igniting his tiny needle-sized lightsaber and slicing into the computer, running around as he did so. He jumped away as it began to explode and the technomagical device, a strange ball of fused supernatural energies, floated freely.

Janus glanced at the mechanism and...grinned? "Excellent! The Chaos Bomb will implode any moment now!"

Wait, Chaos Bomb?

Then suddenly, a strange feeling overcame us all. A feeling...like probabilities expanding to an infinite level.

And suddenly, many strange events happened. The Bloodthirster transformed into a minor Bloodletter and was easily slain. The Keeper of Secrets shrieked and disappeared out of existence. The Lord of Change transformed into a Lord of Change Lawyer with a lawyer's suit and briefcase and exited the area in a Warp Gate. And the Great Unclean One somehow had a huge bucket of Lysol cleaner dumped over his head, and he shrieked in pain as he was...cleaned!

"Looks like your plans just went sideways, cousin." I grinned as my friends were momentarily stunned by the change of affairs.

The Dark Lord growled. "This is not the end! I can still sacrifice you!"

He suddenly wrenched me upwards with a gravitational shift, and threw me at the glass case containing the Chaos Bomb. It cracked, and I scrambled away...but then the Chaos runes started glowing and I had a crazy feeling that we wouldn't even be able to escape.

But then that strange feeling in the Force came again, much stronger this time. And...for a moment that lasted an eternity...I sensed a presence I haven't felt since...

"Mom? Dad? Master Naruto?" I asked, shocked at the presences I felt. So faint...and yet they're there! I saw that my friends also sensed faint connections of family and mentors and Nawaki looked like he was about to cry.

I didn't have time to ponder things as two things happened. Janus suddenly yowled in pain as Wataru hit him with all the neutralization power he's got. My cousin stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping and looking around wildly, then eyeing Wataru with hate in his eyes. He pulled out a kunai. Shit. At that range he'll still be able to throw it and hit Wataru in the neck! Now's the time!

I reached for my pistol, drew it and lined up a shot. But suddenly, the Chaos Bomb cracked open and it suddenly imploded, creating a powerful void inside the room. I lost my shot as I stumbled in the hurricane and my pistol yanked away and went flying into the void. Wataru screamed as he grabbed a railing, losing his focus and allowing Janus a reprieve. NO! I lost my chance!

Janus, no longer dazed as his powers kicked back in looked like he sensed something, a change in the air beyond the void and grinned at me. "It looks like this isn't the end, cousin! We'll meet again and on that day, I promise that you will DIE!"

He allowed the void to drag him in, laughing madly all the way.

Well, if he wants to commit suicide so badly, he can, but we won't join him! No way!

But then I started watching my friends get flung into the void one by one. Shinji and his gang tried their best but they were the first to get sucked in, followed by David, who grabbed Cody as he went in. Then Nawaki, even though I tried to grab him, but missed, and he went in flailing all the way. Ryujin was next, then Kagome and Keith and Hunny and Reika, then Wataru lost his grip, screaming all the way.

One by one, my friends fell screaming into the Chaos void, and then there was me and Nick. Somehow, I managed to grab him as he went sailing past me, and somehow, I managed to get a grip, sticking chakra to my feet and planting myself on the floor. "Not...going...to...let...you...go...ever, buddy!"

"Neither will I!" Nick yelled.

Then the void expanded, growing even stronger as it did so, and even I wasn't able to hang on much longer. The only saving grace is that I managed to keep my promise, holding onto my best friend as we were sucked into the void.

By some providence, we weren't sucked into the Warp and immediately eaten by a horde of daemons waiting for us. Instead, a very strange tunnel in space opened up ahead of us and the two of us sailed into it, going who knows where.

-----

Now, City of Insomnia, Kingdom of Lucis, Planet Eos, Elemental Nations of Coredia

And quite suddenly, we found ourselves literally spat out of a hole, falling through a beautiful sunset, over what looks like a magnificent city...a city under attack. I could tell because of some kind of warships flying through the air firing at each other and flashes of something...familiar lower still on the ground. Something that looked a lot like ninjutsu.

"What the hell?!" I yelled. I didn't know what happened, but I could see some of my friends with us. Kagome, Keith, David (and Cody), Hunny, Reika, Nawaki, Haruka and Ryujin were also with me, falling toward the ground. No sign of the others, but gotta think...oh, wait!

"RYUJIN!" I yelled.

The silver-haired youth looked up at me, gave me a thumbs' up and then disappeared in a flash of silver light that streaked towards all of us. The next thing we knew, we were on the back of a silver-scaled dragon slightly smaller than a Corellian Corvette.

"Is everyone all right?" I asked the gang. I noticed that we seemed to be healed up from our wounds and even our clothes were stitched like new. Just another mystery in a basket full of them.

"Except for Shinji and the others, I think we're fine, but where the hell are we?" Nawaki asked rhetorically.

Ryujin suddenly banked, narrowly missing a shot from one of those airships, a black shape with red lights that looked and even felt menacing. There was something terribly wrong about them, that's for sure! "I'm pretty sure whoever's here just spotted us and they want us out of the sky!"

"Shoot them away, then! I have a bad feeling about those guys!" I yelled. Ryujin's wings then glowed as he folded them in, and then flung them back out. Several tiny streaks of light sailed out and struck the nearest black ships, causing explosions all over them and making them fall away.

"Did we just get into a war, Travis?" Reika yelled.

"Well, they brought the war to us!" I yelled back. "I think..."

Then I spotted it. A massive beam of white energy that exploded out and destroyed another bunch of black airships, literally disintegrating them. Oh my Force...that energy contained about as much force as a Bijudama Bomb! Maybe more! What the hell was that thing?

"Nick, get me a spare scope!" I yelled. Nick handed his spare telescope to me and I got a good look through the telescoping lens. It looked very much like an old man...flying?! He was the source of the energy, but he didn't look like he was very strong as he was an old man (that looked very Coredian, but that's impossible! I never heard of a Coredian that could do that...except maybe my dad, but he's gone!) that was very short. Just what the hell kinda place was this, that people could do that? Was it a place like those Dornalian DC comics?

Was there a Superman here?

I saw the short old man spot us. He frowned, and I worried for a second that he was gonna blast us. But then there was raised eyebrows of surprise...and recognition? Did he know us somehow? Definitely got enhanced sight. The old man started waving at us.

"Ryujin! You see the old guy flying over there?" I asked my dragon friend.

"I do! He was so powerful!" Ryujin exclaimed.

"Go to him! I have a feeling he's friendly!" I yelled.

"What?! Did you see what he did to those ships? We'd get shot out of the sky!" Reika yelled.

"Trust me! I have a hunch he's gonna help us somehow!" I said.

"FIne! But I'll blame you forever if he clips my wings!" Ryujin accelerated, pumping his wings towards the old man. He spotted something and I could now see him making handseals (oh, now that's familiar) and shoot out another blast at another distant airship. It managed to dodge, but got clipped and fell anyway.

Then, we made it within earshot. The old man yelled first, "Ahoy, there, youngsters! I see you're looking lost! I think I can be of some help!"

"Okay, but where are we! Who are you and how the hell can you do that stuff?!" I yelled back.

The old man laughed. "Oh, you saw that? My Dust Release ninjutsu? Haha! I hope you enjoy the show, because there's more where that came from! Now, let me see...if I miss my guess, you kids are Travis Samuel Masaki, son of the Emperor Daniel Masaki, and his Nakama, the Padawan Pack of the Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia!"

The looks on our faces made the old man laugh again. "I see by your reactions I'm right. But to prove this and learn how I know about you, I would like you to ignite your lightsaber. Only a boy named Travis Masaki would have a golden blade!"

Well, he needed to know, so I did so. I ignited my golden blade, raising it high.

"Very good, lad! You are who you say you are. Well, you are quite far from your area of space, boy! I don't know what's going on that you even exist here, but you are in the presence of Emperor Onoki Kyudo, One Hundred Ninety Eighth Emperor of the Elemental Nations of Coredia! It's a pleasure to meet you! Come down to the Citadel with me. You'll meet with the King of Lucis and we'll explain everything that's going on here! And shut your traps. It's unbecoming a prince and his friends!"

"Go down with him." I could only order Ryujin. My mind was swirling with what just happened. "What in the world just happened here?"

"I...think we just got sucked into another dimension." Keith mumbled. "One in which there's a Coredia that knows our Coredia to the point that they know about you, and one with leaders so powerful they could probably break Palpatine without a sweat."

"Fuck." Nawaki said it for all of us.

We are in a whole different world now...


-----

Sparta

The Chaos Bomb expanded out of the castle, devouring the entire planet so rapidly that even the Legendary Nine-minus-One Biju barely had time to exclaim or try to get away before they too were sucked in. Where they went, nobody knows.

The Chaos Bomb expanded until it sucked in the entire solar system, then vanished, leaving a pristine solar system with untamed planets in its wake.

-----

Now, Shinobi


For the moment, a middle-aged woman named Hinata was knitting a scarf with her young daughter Himawari. A scarf to remind them of the old days. It was night, and the sky was beautiful. Then a strange sensation settled on her, as if possibilities became probabilities became actualities.

Then she felt a presence in the Force...a loving feeling that she hasn't sensed in a while.

And she shot up like a shooting star. "Naruto?!"

Himawari, who hasn't yet grown up enough to feel the Force strongly enough, only looked confused. "Mommy?
What about Daddy?"

Then, Hinata sensed a different disturbance in the Force as the sharp feeling faded. Suddenly, they heard something, a clattering.

Himawari was startled. "Mama! There's something outside!"

Hinata focused and activated her Byakugan. Then she gasped as her three-hundred and sixty degree vision revealed the impossible to her. "Oh, my!"

She rushed out of the door to find three women in her front yard. Correction, three women and two girls. "Oh...dear...Katrina Masaki? Sakura Haruno-Uchiha? Riley Masaki and Sarada Uchiha?"

"Oww..." The woman named Katrina groaned, her eyes seemingly going swirly, then she focused on the woman with a girl before her. "Hinata? Hinata-chan?! And is that little Hima?! I, I can't believe it! And...is that Sakura? Kriff this! Help me up!"

Hinata helped up the women. They took one good look at each other...and embraced, laughing and crying at the same time. They were sisters of a kind, as they grew up together, learned how to attract their boys together, and even fought in the wars together. And by some providence, they found each other at last. She didn't expect them to drop out of the sky, of course, but she'll take what she can get.

"Riley?" Sarada blinked through her glasses. "Riley! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Sarada? I can't believe it! You're really real!" Riley Masaki grinned, hugging her friend. They gasped as they saw Hima. "Hima!"

"Riley-neesan? Sarada-neesan?" Himawari asked, blinking. Then gasped and rushed and hugged her big sisters-from-another-mother. "Yay! You're back!"

"Will someone explain to me, the great Kushina Uzumaki, what the hell's going on, don'cha think?" The red-haired woman complained as she was helped up as well.

Kushina Uzumaki. She didn't look any different from when they knew of her, that big picture in the foyer of the old Hokage Mansion on Konoha of the happy crowd just after Kushina's marriage day. But one thing was for sure. This was supposed to be impossible.

Kushina Uzumaki, wife of the Fourth Hokage of Konoha, mother of Hinata's husband and grandmother of her children, and a powerful Jedi Shinobi in her own right...was supposed to be dead.

"And why the hell don't I feel the Fox in my belly anymore?!" She exclaimed, confusion warring with wariness in her tone. "And where's Naruto? And Minato, for that matter?"

That, was a very good question.

-----

[New Dornalia]

OOC: Part 1 of 4 posts.

IC:

"Damn. Couldn't stay gone." John Watsen scowled at the news of returning Masakis.

"Decorum, Captain Watsen." Jesse chided sternly. John shut up at the sting of Jesse's whip, as Jesse was one of the few Masakis he respected. That, and Jesse outranked him. Jesse knew John still had issues with the Masaki Royal Family, but no longer fears that they would kill him or use his soul for evil. Still doesn't care for the opulence of a rich royal family who hasn't been very rich in a long time, but then again, perceptions are everything with the young Orderman. He's getting better at it, but he's got a lot to learn before he can stand in a room with Stinking Rich Folk and not gag. Perhaps more lessons may be in order in the future...

"I think for the time being, I will leave Uncle Daniel to his own devices. He can care for himself, despite appearances." Jesse smiled. He did look forward to meeting the 'light side' half of the family, but he felt duty calls first. "I will like to assist in clearing out the mess here before I deal with the worlds beyond. Now, tell me about this Madhi and this Daedra invasion. I sense they will need to be nipped before they cause great damage."

"I'll help with those." John added.

"Be sure those Ordermen are informed of what transpires if they fail to care for my brother." Jesse smiled thinly. Then he frowned. "But I do not recall any Battlestar Yamato. I may no longer have access to Mother's intelligence, but I know there is Coredia, Juria, Konoha, Tenetia and Issus. Perhaps it's yet another strange appearance or a very recent new model? Regardless, refresh our memories of the Madhi and this Daedra force."

Kylie nodded, pausing for a moment as she looked down at her console and winced. Holding her hand up to Jesse, she then said, "Excuse me for a moment, Captain General. I have to take this." The Superior-General then left the room, wincing at the news from Operation Quincy looked interesting, in the worst sort of way. Who knew that an operation into country that the Puritans considered demon infested would....prove to be actually demon infested? She hoped and prayed that Operation Quincy wouldn't have too much blowback.

Besides, she felt something else in the Force--something massive, and quite, quite significant--like the gates of some sort of heaven were opened and brought forth great powers onto the mortal plane. Terry would feel it too, sniffing the air and looking things over. She hadn’t felt anything this serious since...well, when she first started the Order long ago.

As Walker went out of the room, Terry shrugged and said, “She must be busy. Anyway, I can say personally that these two Ordermen are not going to fail. I mean, they tend to do real good work and have a soft spot for kids.” Pulling out a couple of dossiers out of hammerspace, she then presented them to Jesse.

The dossiers themselves would be ordinary manila folders, with the images of a couple of gatas on them. Roberta J. Herrera and Millicent J. Herrera. Both of them looked fairly rough and tumble, even in the official Order portraits. If Jesse was the reading sort, he would notice several common elements to the dossiers, all of which would paint a rather interesting portrait of the women who would now be watching his brother.

One was a number of Seattle Police Department, Republican Marshals, and Order Internal Affairs Reports regarding investigations into suspicious activity by the pair, complete with mugshots. The documents would detail activities such as alleged gunrunning, alleged gang warfare, and smuggling and other lovely activities more suited for gangsters than Ordermen. And miraculously--diabolically or otherwise--the two never got charged. Not by the civilian authorities anyway. The Order Internal Affairs Department would have a report which basically amounted to a reprimand and a revocation of certain privileges for one year.

The other were other documents detailing a much more charitable and socially productive side. Namely, the files would have their accolades in terms of helping the Sanctuary District Outreach Center, back when the Order was the People’s Acolytes. Images of the two playing with small children on official brochures, serving soup, so on, could be seen. There were also commendations from the Order itself within that part of the file for the Civil War era. Lifesaving awards, commendations for logistical organization--even rank badges and tabs denoting them as having served in Henny Collins’s Ever Victorious Army and its Quartermasters’ Corps. And, there was also a pardon, signed by Superior-General Walker, attached to reports which basically showed them to be model citizens.

Terry then said, nodding and being more serious than she usually was, “Now, I will have to concede they did a lot of shady things in the past. Couple of really wierd eggs. But they had some good in them, and well, they’ve reformed enough. Superior-General Walker trusts them both with your brother’s care, and they have been briefed on the paramount nature of his safety.” She then added with a smirk, “And plus, I assured them both personally that if they let any harm come to your brother, there would be consequences delivered by myself. With an assortment of charcuterie and a crack team of Ordermen.”

Pausing, as she nibbled on her ever infinite supply of Chorizo, Terry continued.

“Now, as for your other question--the two are distinct. The Mahdi was essentially the main evil dude in the Civil War. He was once a mere Orderman named Lawrence Parseegian, who got arrested. He ran against Henrietta Collins, the lady who would become the head of what would become the Order. There’s evidence he had help from a cabal of ultranationalist politicians--this was in the UCK days--but either way, he lost and decided to stage a mutiny and take power for himself. Thus, he lead a rebellion which split the Order into two and caused the effective end of the UCK, and called himself the Mahdi, after an old Earth messianic figure. THe Civil War resulted in the deaths of a lot of Dornies, especially since the Mahdi and his forces began to dabble in the more malevolent uses of necromancy and black magic, including Sith Powers.” The last part about Sith powers was said somewhat hesitantly, as Terry had the inkling that Jesse was skilled in the arts of the Sith.

Terry then continued, “We’re like talking, massacring an entire race of lizardmen to fuel a dark curse, cutting off contact with an entire Dornie dependency in a maelstrom of psychic storms which then was used to fuel a mass zombie uprising. Both of normal dead, people long dead, and oh yes, dead people with power armor. It was not pretty. If his incarnation now is anything like the old one, he’ll have extensive use of Sith powers and necromancy, albeit self taught Sith powers so he may be a bit rusty. He also tended to be really compelling even without using the Force, so don’t be surprised if he charms the pants off of people you meet to fight for him. Fortunately for us, he wasn’t known as a particularly well organized or brilliant strategist--he had people help him with that, including Edwina Scherdvanadze--a spoiled ojou who became a terrorist that tangled with the Rangers and later a violent and very lethal XO in the Mahdi’s service. He also had the usual bad guy flaw of overestimating his own powers.”

Pausing, she then said, “As for the Daedra--well, that happened during the Nova Louisianan Wars. I remember those all too well. We got a large chunk of galactic real estate from the Eternals, but the problem was that it belonged to the Tentaculan States. The Tentaculans became divided on how to greet the newcomers. A large portion of them accepted suzerainity and even joined the Republic’s predecessor, the Workers State, but a lot of Tentaculans went to war against the DOrnalians. It became a very long, engaged and bitter war which then got thrown off the rails by Daedric incursions. No one knows exactly how they started--likely due to a Tentaculan Wizard’s mistake, we assume--but either way, the Daedra came in force. Identifying themselves as serving Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedra used powerful magic abilities, Dremora shocktroopers, and other creatures to attempt to conquer the Tentaculan lands for themselves. They thought the land was some place called Tamriel--although I don’t think they cared they were wrong either way.

In reply, the Tentaculan Rebels and the Dornalian-Tentaculan Coalition forces had to join forces to defeat the Daedric Invasion. A lot of good people died during that war, and some of the Order’s greatest heroes came during that conflict, including Sensei Tim Calvert and “Big Bear” McClung. The Daedra were finally defeated, and forced back to their realm in Oblivion at great cost using both science and magic, including the actions of the heroic Mastersmiths which successfully used an early variant of anti-magic to seal the portals. Nova Louisiana SSR was then formed by the MacIntyre-Aaang Agreement, wherein the Tentaculan States would join the Workers State, but be allowed to do so in a complicated arrangement that causes headaches to this day.”

Terry then mused, “The fact that the Daedra are back makes it clear that whatever Pandora’s Box did to interfere with the normal functioning of dimensions has opened yet another series of portals to Oblivion--and Mehrunes Dagon is likely trying for another go at conquering Nova Louisiana. If I were him, I’d have a long memory and a hateboner for the Tentaculans and Dornalians that caused him so much shit. Problem is, well, he doesn’t discriminate and from what the Order’s records on the Daedra are about, he might not stop there. Worse yet, there’s other Daedric Princes besides him of varying moral alignments, and they’ll likely want to meddle somehow also. Either way, we’ll be facing down an army of relentless, challenging daemons that want to smash things. And if the Mahdi has somehow aligned with Mehrunes Dagon or another Prince….that could be more trouble than we really need right now.”

Pausing, Terry then suddenly offered Jesse and John random chorizos from Hammerspace, going, “Anyone hungry? These are smoked and safe to eat without cooking.”

***

Somewhere along CA State Route 156, Earth SSR, CRE

The Dodge Ram Spartan pickup truck was having quite the commute to Carmel-By-The-Sea. What was normally a commute through the picturesque Monterey County landscape was becoming an increasing nightmare. All around, California Highway Patrol officers and Citizens Forces soldiers could be seen patrolling the major arteries--101, 156, 183, so on. The reason of course was to keep the roads open and free from attacks by the horrors spawned by the Cataclysm. All along the road, the Dornalians could be seen engaging in aggressive patrols, shooting down chupacabra swarms with explosives and machineguns, and even the odd mortar and pack howitzer.

Of course, the attacks by chupacabras paled in comparison to the other terrors now popping up. For as Roberta and Millicent were discovering, the CHiPs and the Citizens Forces and any civilian auxiliaries now contended with undead of all sorts in their search and destroy patrols. Skeleton soldiers wearing the crude remnants of what were once Grand Army of the North and Workers’ State uniforms could be seen taking potshots at the patrols, while more conventional zombies and even a few Civil War holdouts wearing now rusted and burdensome early model T-51 armor and T-45 armor with the NOOSE logo could be seen attempting to rush the defenses. Judicious use of explosives, Sierra India devices and other weapons such as Cobra Assault Cannons helped keep the gribblies at bay, and progress was being made in containing the threats here. But as Millicent swerved to avoid the half exploded torso of a zombie and then ran over a chupacabra, she could only mumble, “Fuck this shit, man. Fuck this shit!”

“Why….you….gotta….use...such….harsh…l-language, man?” Roberta said, as she fired out the passengers’s side window at a chupacabra which tried to leap into the truck.

“Iunno, because we’ve got Goddamn Chupacabras here? And fuckin’ zombies and shit? I’m a little stressed out right now, dummy, so why don’t you fuckin’ focus on shooting!?”

“Man….” Roberta said with a sigh.

After a brief pause, Millicent then declared, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean--you know--”

“I...know. The...heat...of....the...moment.” Roberta said with that moonfaced smile of hers, before turning to open fire on a group of Chupacabras racing towards the truck. She had a rather large Saiga-12 shotgun, one she had configured to fire full auto and rip into enemies using a lot of what amounted to small thermal detonators, designed to create a cluster-bomb effect. This became clear as the chupacabra squad exploded in liquified goo.

After that point, the two stopped, and Millicent could only go, “Shit.”

In front of them lay a massive battle. Citizens Forces teams in IFVs were firing at a small horde attempting to break through the defenses, while a Panther Mk 1 Tactical Level Armor suit could be seen dancing around using its jumpjets, firing gauss cannons and particle cannons in all its lithe, unusually crablike glory.

“‘Berta?”

“Yea?”

“Get into the flatbed and operate the Warpig.”

“O-okay….”

WIth that, Roberta dutifully exited the car and then leapt into the bed of the truck, where a heavy repeating blaster with a device attached to the bottom was ready to go. Activating the weapon Roberta shouted, “We….good...to...go…”

And with that, Millicent changed the stereo to blare loud rock music. As the guitar beat began to grow faster and faster, she could be heard revving the engine of the mighty truck, as the zombies approached.

“Not yet!” Millicent shouted at her sister, as her sister began firing at the hordes of zombies and undead coming close, the sounds of aggressive blaster fire and the smell of burning flesh coming through.

Then the song really began, with the lyrics:

“When I get high, I get high on speed/top fuel funny car’s a drug for me--”

And at that point, Millicent released the brake and shot forward, slamming into a group of zombies and sending efflua flying everywhere like a bowling pin group being hit by a ball. As that occurred, Millicent would begin driving as quickly as possible, swerving and slamming and fishtailing into zombies and the undead with a zeal unparalleled at that moment. She laughed and screamed, “SUCK ON DETROIT STEEL, FUCKTARDS!”

Roberta began firing in all directions as her sister engaged in the art of “driving like a complete lunatic”. Roberta may have talked slower than her sister, but she had a sort of common sense about her that let her know that car-fu wasn’t going to be the sole solution here. And so, Roberta fired the blaster in short controlled bursts, ripping apart and exploding zombies and chupacabras with the occasional long burst. Millie also occasionally pulled on the device on the bottom, sending out a small glowing ball which then exploded when in the middle of a group of baddies. With studied accuracy, she ripped into the swarm.

Eventually, the Citizens Forces took notice, and one of them shouted, “WOAH! HEY!” to the truck as it did its thing. Alongside the truck, the Citizens Forces’ and CHiPs actions caused the horde to fall back and regroup. Eventually, the truck pulled over and one of the CHiPs ran up to the truck.

“Holy shit. Nice shooting there, sports. License and registration?”

Milicent presented the documents, albeit unwillingly. Putting on a pair of aviators, the man looked at the documents and nodded, reading information in real time about his stoppees. Eventually, the man returned the documents and said, “Thanks. Where y’all headed?”

“We’re headed to Carmel-By-The-Sea. How close are we?”

“Fairly. Keep going south. Shouldn’t have too much more trouble.”

“Thanks, officer.” Millicent said, as she then drove off down California’s highways….with music blaring. Sure enough the Officer’s prediction was proven surprisingly right--the only sight was a few packs of chupacabras, not so dangerous now.

Soon, Kiyoshi would notice a beat up, dented Ram pickup truck, with one neko in the back trunk, another on the driver’s seat, and a lot of blood and dents on the bumpers. The driving neko got out and knocked on the door.

“Hello? THis where Kiyoshi Masaki is? I’m Millicent Herrera, my sister’s in the truck bed. We’re Ordermen and we’ve been assigned to protect y’all.”

[Allanea]

The Second Battle of Neo-Dallas

They have fancied themselves an ancient race, fixated on their study of the sciences - to the exclusion of any and all concept of ethics - and the worship of the god Shub-Niggurath. For aeons, they have raided the outposts and villages of others for subjects of their foul experiments.

Their appearance is alien and foul - somewhat between a crustacean and a giant insect, their disturbing, ellipsoid body festooned with multiple pairs of limbs, the better to capture their victims, and transparent wings, like on a dragonfly. Their brain is almost completely exposed, glowing somewhat in the darkness.

I have little to criticize.

My own body, no doubt, is frightful to the Mi-Go. Its outer shell is two kilometers long, fashioned of armor-steel, adamantium, and other substances. Might engines at my rear glow with the fire raging stars. My steel hull is covered in turrets, gun pods, launchers. Enormous ammunition magazines protrude from my sides. Like the treetops of a forest under wind my guns move and sway.

Deep under the steel is my inner body. Once I was a mere human being. I was, then, Nikolai Georgievich Pugachev, scion of wealthy family. Today, a third of my inner body is computronium by weight. Cables hook up to the back of my head and my spine. In my brainpan, neural networks connect Pugachev’s brain to silicone-gold arrays. Only thus can i read and comprehend the feed from the sensors around my body. I perceive everything - my brothers and sisters at my sides, the support vessels behind me, the enemy out front.

To friends and family, I might still be Nikolai, or perhaps Kolya. To the brothers at my sides, and the enemy in front of me, I have a different name. I am FKS Funeral Guest.

I can see where the enemy struck from, now. Their base is hidden here, behind a moon of one of the outer planets, unobservable from Neo-Dallas itself. It is a large structure, to be fair to the enemy. Dozens of kilometers in diameters, it is incomprehensible - an array of bulbs, tubes, and polished egg-like objects. Perhaps contemplating its geometry would make a man go mad.

I do not need to comprehend anything. Deep within my outer body, under thousands of tons of computronium, armor, cables, and reactors, I open my mouth, and scream my anger. My outer body vibrates and shakes as the Object within me spins. It is a Gatling gun of vast proportions, its barrels hundreds of meters in weight. While it spins up and gets ready, other guns on my armored muzzle are beginning to fire. In the emptiness of space, they are quiet - only dozens of brilliant lights. In my armored hull, however, I hear them - clatttering, roaring, barking, hissing.

My sensors pick-up the enemy’s broadcast. I can hear the creatures calling out the name of their god - Shub-Niggurath! The Goat of the Thousand Young! Ia!.

I switch to their frequency. Near my flesh-mouth, a small microphone hangs. I choose to use it. I scream. My brothers, deep within their outer bodies, scream as well.

“HURRAAAAAAAAAH! POLUNDRAAAAAAH!”

The structure of the Mi-Go base was incompreyhensible, complex, nightmtarish]. Now there is nothing to understand. Plasma beams cut through the connector pipes. Fusion detonations, dozens of megatons in yield, flash among the ellipsoid structures. Guided missiles pursue the Mi-Go cruisers as they try to get out of their docks.

In a few seconds, the Dark Goat of the Woods has no more young here.

We proceed over the wrecked surface of the moon, our ventral cannon firing into the smoke, fusion detonations blossoming among the ruins to verify that truly, nothing remains.

Now, to the planet.

*

Neo-Dallas, a few hours later

[i]The planet below us is burning. Smoke - dirty-grey, the smoke of hundreds of miles of woods enveloped in flames - is spread over the surface. This is a good smoke, and we rejoice in seeing it. Were the cities on the surface on fire, the smoke would be darker, an acrid black. Grey smoke means our brothers on the surface are advancing. It means plasma fire and artillery is raking Shub-Niggurath’s spawn in those woods they attack from. It means our tanks are pushing forward, trees cracking under their treads like matchwood.

I emerge from hyperfold wrong, having missed my target location by several thousand kilometers. I am now among the Mi-Go craft, their hulls misshapen and insect-like, like giant praying mantises fitted with fusion drives. Before I can react, damage readouts blaze across my field of vision.

DORSAL TURRET D69 SHUT DOWN
VENTRAL TURRETS V7, V70, V79 DOWN
STARBOARD TURRETS S90 through S113 INOPERATIVE
WARNING, FIRE IN AMMUNITION COMPARTMENT 16.
WARNING. ENGAGING HALON DISPENSERS.
WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.

I ponder shutting off the emergency notifications briefly - but for now I choose to simply ignore them. I fire everything. Literally.

Eight hundred guns and launchers on my my adamantium-infused skin blaze alive. Now the Mi-Go will get to behold my true form, radiant as a star. In every direction, in every clock-facing and bearing, the guns blaze. Missiles streak forth throughout orbital space. I engage everything I can - targets in high orbit, in low orbit, on the surface, above me, behind me, in front of me.

A bloated troop transport, shaped somewhat like an ant-queen, is torn apart, smoke and fire glowing in its torn belly where the missiles impact. A Mi-Go cruiser exists for a mere two seconds as half-a-dozen fusion lights burst across its front, and afterwards it will require a spectrographic study to prove that a cruiser ever was there. On the surface, kiloton-scale fusion bursts detonate deep within the woods, where the span of Shub-Niggurath had been amassing their forces for attack.

I luxuriate in the destruction I wreak.

For a fraction of a second, I can see it painted across my mind’s eye - radiant thermonuclear flame bathing the woods, ancient pine-trees flung through the air.

But there is not much time to luxuriate.

DORSAL TURRETS D76-87 SHUT DOWN
VENTRAL TURRETS V50-120 SHUTDOWN DOWN
STARBOARD TURRETS S70 through S113 INOPERATIVE
WARNING, FIRE IN AMMUNITION COMPARTMENTS 16, 17, 18, 22.
WARNING. ENGAGING HALON DISPENSERS.
WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.

I disengage the warnings. As molten metal pours down my hull, I turn. The Mi-Go think they have me surrounded. They are correct.

They think they have weakened me, by destroying many of my weapons. They are also correct.

They think that the fight will now turn to them. Perhaps they are also correct.

But the fight is still not over. My spinal Gatling roars its defiance, bathing the ground positions of the enemy with fire and radiation. A point-defense missile launcher empties its tubes, enemy smallcraft shattered in the stratosphere of Neo-Dallas in its wake. Anti-ship turrets on my starboard fire all at once, like a broadside from the age of fail, and I add more of the Mi-Go cruisers to my tally.

If one dies, one should die with a rumble.

I capture a Mi-Go destroyer that had ventured far too near to me in my gravitic drivefields and begin to bend it. I strain with all the might of my drives, as if I was straining a muscle until the metal snaps and gives way.

DRIVE ENGINE B DOWN.
CATAPULTING DRIVE

I shut off the warning again.

For a moment, I turn my attention to my status. I am injured many ways. Boiling coolant billows from my sides. Parts of the armor have melted, or have been vaporized altogether. Radiation levels inside me exceed several safety barriers. I cringe inwardly at the thought of the therapies my inner body will have to undergo - should I even survive.

I turn my attention to my surroundings.

And I see them.

Here they are, my brothers and sisters. Under the adamantium and steel, they have are called Sabrina, and Cynthia, and Joe, and Alan. But the Mi-Go will know them by other names. FKS Judgement of the Freemen, and Clean The World, and Deos Suos Agnoscet, and Fearsome Blade. They ride low over the atmosphere of the planet, the gleam of their engines visible by the naked eye even from the surface.

As I close my eyes and allow myself to lose consciousness, I can hear their roar over the comms waves.

[New Dornalia]

OOC: Part 2 of 3 or 4.

IC:

Gracie-Chu'unthor, Chu'unthor, Exodus Fleet of the Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia

They're alive.

Being an AI, Gracie didn't really have eyes, or a body, or anything but the most complex coding man has made, coding that gave her life. But that coding also allowed her to learn and to grow. To touch the stars with her fingers and eke out their secrets. And most importantly, to feel.

The Dornalians are alive.

As a person in her own right, given full citizenship by the authority of the Emperor and the laws of Coredia, she's able to do what few, even the vaunted Jedi, could do. She can monitor the hypermatter and hyperspace reactors, gleaning into the exotic matter for issues that only she could resolve. She can peer out into the depths of space and use her faster-than-light sensors to monitor threats from even a solar system away. She can order around troops and even launch missiles when the Exodus Fleet is threatened.

And yet, the words kept swirling around in her digital thoughts.

In the ethereal world of cyberspace, where mere seconds take an eternity, she pondered the realization of a proud nation's existence and perhaps the potential for many of the old allies to return. Perhaps not in triumph, but certainly to see what has transpired.

The Dornalians are alive and she needs to respond.

That snapped her back into business. She's the main artificial intelligence of the hopes and dreams of what is now no longer the last of the Republic, not a simpering girl. She nevertheless wiped a digital tear she hasn't realized she was shedding and steeled herself. It is time.

"Right, then." She cracked her knuckles and began composing her reply, relaying to Dornalia what she sees as she goes along.

Code: Select all

Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor, checking in at long last!
It's been a long time, hasn't it? By our chrono, it's about five--no, fifteen--what? Two hundred--you're kidding! Three thousand--that's impossible!

Well, apparently looks like our chronos have borked up by whatever chaos is going on out there. Stand by. Temporal shields compensating.

Compensated. First things. We're alive, definitely. All five hundred thirty five million, two hundred twenty seven, six hundred and ninety nine, oh, wait, seven hundred and seven. Just saw a new group pop into existence. Looks like part of the Padawan Pack. Sending Jedi to confirm. Anyway. Dr. Rina Masaki reports that the Infinite Improbability Drive activated on its own without input from the scientists, and apparently, whatever activated it used it as a catalyst to cause a whole lot of mess on the Exodus Fleet, including the biggest damned disturbance in the Force. Fortunately, it seems to be dying down, but unfortunately it appears that we have a situation. I can now confirm that the long-dead primary worlds of Coredia, Juria, Jurai, Konoha and Issus have somehow been resurrected, as well as the minor worlds that were ruined in the many conflicts we suffered. No word on Tenetia, Tantis or Sparta yet.

Even worse, we may or may not be in the clear. We have tentative reports of Shivan activity in and around Coredian space. Emperor Masaki has gone to clear them out. Recommend rallying at Jurai if you're sending aid.

No idea of Imperial or Sith presence, but I wouldn't count them out of the universe just yet.

Now...questions. What has happened since we were gone?

Any idea what may have happened to start up the IPD on its own? What can we do to help you and Allanea? We won't be able to fully assist in any matter until we defeat the Shivans, but we'll do what we can, because we must.

And finally, what the hell is this Elemental Nation of Coredia we keep hearing about?

Over.

[url=http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b269/Coredia/JediStampofApproval.jpg]Image[/url]


To: New Dornalian State Department, Allanean Foreign Ministry, All Foreign Ministries

Re: We Are Back!

We are glad to inform all parties that, contrary to popular belief, rumors of our cessation of existence have been greatly exaggerated. Were it not for this trying time, we would gladly reopen relations with all interested parties. As it is, it appears we have stumbled into a great crisis unlike ever seen before. We are currently seeing renewed Shivan incursions and will gladly welcome aid to rid us of that old scourge, and if aid is requested to deal with crises in other lands, be aware that our aid is limited until we destroy the Shivan force. In our opinion, it would be prudent if we could find a time and place to band together and work to resolve this crisis ASAP, so we've opened the planet Jurai to those who are willing and able to attend.

Once more, on behalf of Emperor Daniel Masaki and Grand Master Press Tilton of the Coredian Jedi Order, it's good to be back! Expect more from us in the future!

Sincerely yours,

Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs Demaala Starlander

PS: Elemental Nations of Coredia Diplomatic Corps, we have rescued your General Akihito Masaki and your cruise liner Pride of Apris. As this is what is essentially a first contact situation, we believe it would be most prudent to formally meet at your earliest convenience. Meet us at our Jurai System. Be sure come armed and dangerous. Shivans are very dangerous foes indeed.

PPS: Grand Prussian Empire of Allanea, we, the Semi-Nomadic Republic of Coredia has received your dispatch. We are assembling at our planet Jurai to kick the Shivans out of our space, so any aid will be limited to what we can spare. Where will you be holding this conference?

PPPS: Colonial Republic of New Dornalia, it's been a while. Our Gracie Unit said you were still alive, so let's meet at Jurai and catch up on old times. Also, care to join us in ridding the universe of our old Shivan adversaries?

[url=http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b269/Coredia/ShogunSeal.gif]Image[/url]

"Greetings, citizens of the Elemental Nations and citizens of the galaxy at large. It is understood by the Shogunate that we have suddenly come under assault by a strange and terrible force unlike any other. We have seen old friends and adversaries walk anew. We have seen outlying territories come under attack by a ravenous alien force. We have even seen reports of opportunists seeking to disrupt our galactic community and sow discord and chaos everywhere. But rest assured that the Shogunate is doing all it can to respond to the crises and restore order to the Elemental Nations.

Having consulted with the Chancellor and with the Military Corps, I am declaring an S-rank Emergency for the entire Elemental Nations. All citizens are to report to their designated disaster stations. All Military Corps reserves are to be called to active service, including the senior year of our Academies. All forces are raised to Class S War Alert. It is clear that we are threatened by nothing less than a situation that demands all of us, from the lowliest citizen to the highest lord to lend a hand to each other and to the galaxy at large. Rest assured that we will also locate the Emperor and the King of Lucis and we will do all we can to bring justice to the foolish opportunists who took advantage of the situation at Eos. To that end, the Elemental Nations formally declares a state of war against the Empire of Niflheim, to be prosecuted to the fullest extent possible.

Make no mistake. This is a crisis on the level of our recent Eldritch War and we cannot back down, nor shall we give up in ensuring the safety and security of every citizen in the Nations. So it is necessary for every citizen to do their part to ensure the protection of the whole.

While we do not know how long this crisis will last, be assured that it will end and we will recover. We will rebuild what was broken. We will revive the lost. We will bring whoever opened Pandora's Box to justice and we will ensure that this crisis never, ever happens again. That is the promise of the Elemental Nations.

To our allies and friends in the galaxy, to the newcomers who have just come onto the galactic scene, it is increasingly clear that we cannot face this crisis alone, nor should face it so alone. Coredian. Dornalian. Allanean. And all other nations of the galaxy. We must gather together, pool our resources, plan a course of action as a galactic community, for assuredly, we shall all hang together or we will fall separately.

It is time to join forces. It is time to face this threat as one. It is time to answer the Allanean call to arms and build a great alliance to turn back this tide of darkness. It is time to light the beacons of hope so that when the galaxy call for aid, we, the civilized nations shall answer. Nothing less than our very best effort shall be brought towards resolving this crisis.

I look forward to speaking with my counterparts in New Dornalia and Allanea to chart our course of action in the near future, but for now, we must bring an end to the scourge of Tyranids and Shivans and all other evils that have begun to consume our galaxy. Aid is always welcome to destroy these foes, and in turn, the Elemental Nations will lend our aid wherever it is required.

As always, keep the light of our souls shining, so that the darkness will never succeed. Thank you, and may the Spirits guide us always.

JRCCC
San Diego, California, Earth SSR
Colonial Republic of Earth

JRCCC was the beating heart and soul of the Dornalian defense network. Taking in feeds from all over the Republic and Beyond, the facility's Mission Control Room was the kind of place seen in the movies--a massive war room where decisions were made in a snap which could affect millions of peoples' lives. Generals and staffers could be seen milling about a series of holographic maps which provided a blow-by-blow, minute-by-minute look at the Dornalian crisis.

Within the facility itself, the events of the Cataclysm were unfolding. Reports came in first of the dramatic event in and around Mystria--something involving an arcane ritual which the Navy had been asked to protect. Whatever it was, the Navy was watching it with interest. No telling what would result from a dramatic summoning ritual after all, especially with the Order and the arcane magics of Alexander Kazansky involved.

Additionally, maps of various Dornalian trouble spots popped up. The map of the Solar System continued to report on chupacabra infestations on a massive scale. The Navy, Citizens Forces, and civilian auxiliaries alike were working to battle the tide of Chupacabrakind. Footage from the ground showed gunship configured Pelicans firing railcannon fire from the sky at a horde below, accompanied by gauss minigun and repeating blaster fire, as Dornalians pushed forward to kill a large number of them. The Chupacabras were being pushed back, but it was getting bloody.

One of the bloodier theaters however was with the Nova Louisiana region. News feeds reported the whole County as being under a State of Emergency, and with all Citizens Forces units called up to put down the invaders. Worse yet, images showed large, lumbering figures attacking Dornalian defenses--this time, carrying what looked like brutal parodies of weapons Dornalians knew--machineguns, gauss rifles, so on.

And yet amidst the violence came hope.

One of the men working the consoles motioned for a commanding officer to come forth, saying, “Sir? We’ve got another transmission from that Gracie unit. You know, the one with the pre-Civil War code?”

“Put it on screen, Sergeant.”

Gracie’s report would come through, and then the commander said, “Pass it to the President. He needs to see this.”

***

Upstairs, the President and his staff continued to monitor the unfolding insanity. The message was quickly passed to their attention. Actually, as Norton SImons, Secretary of State, noted, "There's at least three different messages from three different Coredian entities. One a low level AI, the other two being two organized states with the name Coredia." Sitting down as he rubbed his temples and drank some coffee, "This is going to be interesting."

Haggar said simply, "Well, you know what to do, right?"

Norton nodded, and smiled. "You know it, Mike."

So, it ended up that Norton Simons had a job to do. Seeing as how the Coredians of both stripes had also contacted the Republic, he first opted to fire off a message to Gracie and the Old!Coredians.

To: Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor
From: Secretary of State Norton Simons
cc: Emperor Daniel Masaki, Grand Master Press Tilton of the Coredian Jedi Order, Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs Demaala Starlander
Security Level: CONFIDENTIAL//STATEDEP//ORCON (Read: Secret IC)

Unit Alpha-Six-Four-Niner-Seven, Gracie-Chu'unthor, this is Norton Simons, Secretary of State of the Colonial Republic of Earth, aka New Dornalia. And let me begin by saying that it has been a long time--especially since it has been a long time since we've heard from the Semi-Nomadic/Imperial Republic of Coredia. Last we remembered, bizarre astronomical events which destroyed your nation and the bulk of the refugees we had in Dornieland and their descendants long since became settled into Dornie society. Indeed, one of them's our Director of Central Intelligence now, and there's a whole bunch of what we call "old Coredians" living on a world we call Konoha County.

On that note, it is interesting that you note that Coredia, Juria, Jurai, Konoha and Issus have returned along with other worlds. At this point, we can assume the dimensional shenanigans caused by the Cataclysm, or as it is more crudely known, the ‘Fustercluck’ have made it so the two worlds can exist simultaneously on the same dimensional plane.

Please pass along our greeting to the Semi-Nomadic Republic's management, including Emperor Masaki himself, and it is a shame we could not meet again under less strained and crazed circumstances. It is particularly concerning to note that among the many dangers now unleashed by the current situation, that the Shivans have returned. Dornalians have not officially, to my knowledge, encountered them but we will do what we must to help stop them.

As such, please inform Emperor Masaki and all appropriate authorities that we will meet with your people at Jurai to plot a counterattack against the Shivans. I will say that the Dornalian people are experiencing a crazy situation of their own. The Republic is experiencing strange events of all sorts, to say the least.

One of the biggest problems is that swarms of Chupababras--a native cryptid known to feast on goats--have begun to infest the Solar System, along with an uprising of the dead and even reports of ghostly soldiers from Earth's past making themselves known. We are pushing the Chupacabras and zombies back using the full force and authority of the Colonial Republic's armed forces as well as any number of civilian auxiliaries. But they are proving tenacious fighters and intelligence is sparse in regards as to why the Chupacabras are even an issue.

Worse still is the presence of invasions and unrest in Nova Louisiana. Nova Louisiana is being targeted by a combined force of Daedric Invaders lead by Mehrunes Dagon and what appears to be a revival of one of the Republic's most dangerous foes--Lawrence Parseegian, the Mahdi himself, a rebel leader/necromancer/self-taught wannabe Sith leader in all but name. We don't know why they're working together. We do know it's a very bad thing. Nova Louisiana is under a state of emergency and we are doing our damnedest to push the enemy back into whatever dimension they came from.

There's also any number of gribblies. The Cooperative Union of Hajarra is experiencing a rash of terrorist activity, lead by Edwina Sherdvanadze--a woman thought to have been killed in the Civil War. Evidently, she is back and more lethal than ever. We also are hearing rumors that raiders near the approaches to the old Terran Socialist Republic--a dependency of the old UCK--have begun to make themselves felt, many of them using former Dornalian equipment and acting as pirates and stealthy sorts. It's bad.

Luckily, we are cooperating with the Allaneans to combat the menace. Our forces have begun a magical project which will hopefully turn the tide of the war. Additionally, the Order of the Vanguards--which you may have once known as the "People's Acolytes" are working with other government agencies to pursue other avenues to contest the current enemies of the Republic.

Now, as to your current questions. The Infinite Improbability Drive normally is designed to prevent random warpings. Given the reality altering effects of the Cataclysm it can only be surmised that the forces which altered reality likely also impacted the Improbabiltiy Drive as well. I am not an expert, and as such I am working to figure out what could have triggered the IPD.

As for an Imperial and Sith presence? The force known as Unified Sith does not seem to be present, and while there was a Galactic Empire of sorts it was a bit of a different animal run by the Thrashians. Thankfully, there's no real Galactic Empire and Sith just yet.

Also, I've included a packet with info on the Elemental Nations of Coredia, but suffice it to say, the ENC is a confederacy of various national entities which fields a lot of magic and a lot of ninja. They are stout, loyal, and quite brave. You'll like them.

As for the Elementals:

To: The Shogun
From: Secretary of State Norton Simons
cc: Alexander Blaken-Kazansky, Emperor of Greater Prussia, King of Allanea, Reichskamphen, and Leipzig-Island, Tsar of All Russia, Archduke of Dragkon, Duke of Leyfield and Blaken-Island, Count of Centreville,Liberator of Torontonias, Friend of the Elves, Emperor of the Thousand States, President of of the CAPINTERN, and Headmaster of the Leyfield School for Girls
Security Level: CONFIDENTIAL//STATEDEP//ORCON (Read: Secret IC)

The Elemental Nation of Coredia's call to arms will not go unheeded. Be advised that we are currently cooperating with the Allaneans to ensure that this madness can be quelled and that peace can return to the dimensional plane we know. Nonetheless, I agree that we three should work together to further our mutual attempts to stem the tide, particualrly from the Shivans and the Tyranids. I look forward to closer high-level cooperation as well.

For the convenience of the Shogun and the Elemental authorities which are handling their end of the effort, I am enclosing a copy of the current status of Dornalian affairs. Needless to say, it is quite a doozy. We have Daedric Incursions and the possible return of the Mahdi in Nova Louisiana County, mass chaos including chupacabra infestations, ghostly armies going to war again (especially in Central America and Saigon) and zombie uprisings on Earth and other Solar System areas, as well as renewed terrorist activities in Hajarra and the appearance of ghostly raiders using older Dornalian equipment in the approaches to the old Terran Socialist Republic--a protectorate of the Republic with which the Dornalians lost contact during the Civil War.

Let us know when we can have a conference call or even some sort of face-to-face meeting to plan things out. I intend on keeping Dornalian comm channels available to our allies so we can get things coordinated. God willing, we will, in the words of the old motivational slogan, 'adapt, improvise and overcome.'"

[New Dornalia]

OOC: Part 3 of 3

IC:

Three Executioners, three ships. It seemed like an easy task, but the surprise arrival of the Dornalians forced the monsters to scatter, deflecting much of the fire with strange shields that flared with every blow. A few hits got in and they bellowed in pain, then immediately started regenerating. Their scanners now resolved the monsters on their screens. They're not very big compared to the ships arrayed against them, comparable to the Corellian Corvette in size, though the wingspans made them look bigger, but they are still two hundred meter long dragons with power outputs that could one-shot continents.

They saw the other ship split apart, raising the stakes even further. But the three were powerful. Godlike and they desired to prove their worth to their Masters. So gathering rune-like energy in the palm of their hands, even as they dodged and weaved around the enemy fire, they fired immense stream of orange light into the enemy Heinlein and Jeishka ships. If successful, the stream would hit and strange runes would trap the ship within, preventing escape. Then the trap would become a space oven, raising the temperature and density so high that matter was turned into quark-gluon soup. Even the shields of Coredia's battleships were unable to withstand the instant fireballs and it was part of how they were destroyed in this timeline. All that's left of the enemy would be a thin stream of glowing particles, all too easily dissipated by interstellar winds.

That is but one of several weapons in the Enforcer arsenal, and today, they intended to use them all.

But there is hope. After the Executioners fired, a series of flashing lights appeared around the battlefield, resolving into the Battlestar Coredia and the Eighth Fleet!

---

"What the hell are those things?!" Commodore Holland Novak growled, seeing the readings for the first time.

"Unknown, sir, but they seriously have a lot of power. Fast, too!" His best friend and XO Hap raised his eyebrows in trepidation. "Orders?"

"Launch all fighters. Use the Vector Engines. Don't let those big shots hit you! Chief!" Commodore Holland called the Ship's AI.

"Sup?" The Chief AI of the ship asked in a drawl. Coredia's own homegrown ship AI, Chief has learned many things from contact with the Gracie units, including how to change appearance to suit their personality. This Chief looked like a young man with a long braided pigtail and a no-sleeve Chinese-style qi outfit.

"Coordinate with the Gracie units! We'll have to take them down one by one! And get me what you have on those things!" Commodore Holland ordered.

Chief whistled as he trained the sensors onto the enemy. "Two hundred meters long, two hundred fifty meter wingspans, and very slippery indeed. And you wouldn't think so, but those orange blasts...let's just say you don't want the Coredia to get caught in it. They can turn whatever they hit into quark soup!"

"That's..." Commodore Holland could only exclaim in shock.

"Yeah, even the Death Star doesn't have that kind of hax. It reaches into nearly Godulan or Balroggan levels of hax. The one good news, if you can call it good, is that their defenses appear to be weak, as they're relying on speed and agility instead of tanking the hits. Lock them down and you can hit them!"

"Then the Anakin Skywalker will launch attacks at range! Asuma Sarutobi, render all available assistance to the Yamato! All other forces, focus fire on one foe at a time! Box them into killzones and keep them in your sights and for Force's sake, keep out of the blasts!" Commodore Holland ordered.

But it was too late for one unlucky corvette, who did get caught by the blast of the lead Enforcer. Runes suddenly surrounded the corvette and try as it might, it could not escape, and all available fire simply passed through them. The ship's crew could only scream in horror as the runes vaporized them in a flash of brilliant orange light, leaving nothing but glowing particles that soon faded away.

That is the fate that awaits all those who stand in the way of the Executioners.

---

Yamato

Padawan Mark Amaral couldn't believe it. Not only did the Dornalians somehow survive to save the day, but the Battlestar Coredia was here, too!

"But I thought it was destroyed with all hands!" He stammered. He remembered the attack. How the Coredia fought a whole flock of enemy Executioners and Starmen, how his Master used everything in his arsenal to buy time for his apprentice to escape. How...that giant dragon, that massive country-sized beast, Anankos Grima, Supreme Commander of the enemy armada and Giygas' most trusted lieutenant, finished off his Master and tore apart the last refuge of Coredia, the ship's namesake planet, with his godlike powers...

Mark shook his head to ward away the terrible memory. He just hoped that these forces will be enough.

Then...

"Captain Kurosawa, the Asuma Sarutobi is hailing us!" The comms officer of the Yamato yelled.

"Onscreen." Captain Kurosawa nodded as the battle raged around us.

A man in his mid-twenties appeared on the Yamato's screens. "This is Jounin Konohamaru Sarutobi, commanding officer of the Asuma."

"We read you." Captain Kurosawa replied. "Captain Kurosawa of the Battlestar Yamato, reporting."

"I'm Padawan Mark Amaral, Sensei." The boy said, bowing to the Jounin, who nodded back.

"Very well. First things first. I can tell you'll need a shipyard, but do you need medical attention?"

"Yes, we do. Our ship is overflowing with refugees. We'll need all the assistance we can get. Medical, engineers to fix our FTL engines and so on."

"Very well. We'll teleport onboard ASAP. Just one other thing. We seem to have no recording of a Battlestar Yamato in our Fleet. You're definitely Coredian, but where did you come from?"

Captain Kurosawa frowned at the question. "I'm curious myself. I remember a Konohamaru Sarutobi in our archives. Problem is, he's supposed to be a long dead Kage who died about three thousand years ago."

Padawan Amaral piped up in confusion. "But that would mean...we somehow got transported to the past?"

"Or we into the future." To his credit, Jounin Sarutobi kept his face calm at the possible implications. "Either way, we'll need to render assistance and defeat those demons. Discussion will come later."

"Right." Captain Kurosawa nodded to his shield officer, who began modulating the Yamato's shields to accept the Sarutobi's teleport signals. Within moments, medical personnel appeared onboard, followed by engineers to help fix the ships' FTL drives.

Meanwhile, the battle rages on, even as Jounin Sarutobi sent the new information about the Yamato to the Coredia, who sent it again to the Dornalians for later examination.

And then…

---

The Enforcer Lord Mordakai, servant to the Convictor Malakai, and master of the Enforcer force sent to destroy the Yamato laughed at the feeble mortals flinging everything they have against him, dancing among the firepower thrown at him and his two fellows, embracing the pain of war with a zeal once reserved for Chaos cultists.

He called upon his Voice, a sound that was not a sound. It was a harsh, heartrending sensation of command, a voice that compelled obedience to all who listened. In this Voice, a message was sent.

"Greetings, irregularities! I am Enforcer Mordakai, Servant of the Convictors who rule on behalf of the Creator! By the will of the Creator, all who do not bend the knee to us shall bow in pieces! But know that I am a merciful Executioner. Let this battle be forgotten if you but give over the Padawan of the late Emperor Masaki to the care of the Creator. After all, what is one simple boy against the multitude you all cherish and protect? It is a simple request that all should obey, immediately."

He, of course, didn't expect obedience. But that's okay. He'll tear apart the mortal fleet, consume the Yamato and all within in a Dark Sphere and take the boy back to his Master. But there's a strangeness in the aether. A strangeness even he didn't expect. As if the entire universe twisted in ways that advance the cause of his Creator...

Ah, yes. He felt himself growing stronger with every minute. Chaos ran rampant and the energies fuels his power. He laughed in joy as he fired Disaster bolts to pepper the enemy fleets, small, rapid-firing bolts that cut into X-wings and Vipers gunning for him as easily as one cuts butter.

Near the Battlestar Yamato

"Well, fuck me."

The two Gracies--Heinlein and Jeishka--were working with their respective crews to figure out where to go next. For, in the words of a famous pre-Apocalypse legend, things had “escalated quickly” and had “really got out of hand, fast.”

First, the enemies they were facing were unbelievably destructive and powerful creatures, akin to dragons in space. The Heinlein’s shell game had resulted in its ability to evade the blisteringly powerful ordinance the Executioners were fielding. The Jeishka meanwhile pushed its engines and began evasive manuevers. Like a sumo wrestler trying to perform Swan Lake, it could be seen moving to evade fire, and even doing the odd “drift” like manuever to bring its guns to bear on the Executioners and others.

As to that last part, Gracie-Heinlein could only go "Nooooice," mesmerized by the sight of a large battleship drifting on a 2d plane, firing a hail of energy fire at the Executioners. For her part, Gracie-Jeishka said with a sigh, "It's not that cool. Besides, my people are pushing the ship to the limit as is. Plus, I'm getting the feeling we don't want to be hit by those things." To which Gracie-Heinlein declared, "Then we won't get hit, will we?"

The tactical data the Gracies were getting wasn’t optimistic. The Executioners had powerful shields of an unknown type and were fast and agile. The only thing keeping the Dornies alive was the fact Dornies loved big engines and big guns and generally were too dumb to know when things weren’t looking good. As it was, they were trading shots with the Executioners and their cohorts with little effect, and likewise the Executioners weren’t hitting them much. It was a stalemate.

Secondly, came the Battlestar Coredia and its cohorts. This time, the Gracies were eager to get to work. When they were called by Chief, the two looked at each other, and Gracie-Heinlein said simply, "Oh, fuck yea. Let's get these bastards." The two Gracies's avatars fistbumped, and then began sending what tactical data they had, networking with Chief to get a POV of the Dornalian vessels. Oodles of tactical data would also be provided, including realtime sitreps from the Dornie ships, which were doing their damnedest to stay together and not get too hurt. Of course, shit was happening, fast.

Even as the Coredia and its attack team pushed the Executioners into killzones, the Gracies privately breathed a sigh of relief. More ships meant less pressure on just them and the Yamato. The Dornalian vessels of course would begin pressing their attack. Chief could see the Jeishka moving about, firing broadsides of Forced Uniform Collliding Kill Projector fire at the enemy Executioners in a sort of leisurely zig-zag pattern with drifting involved, all in an attempt to keep the guns trained onto the Executioners. The Heinlein meanwhile would have its constituent portions fire away at the foe, making sure to push the enemy into the killzones.

As all this occurred, the Dornalians got a package of data about their new friend, the Yamato. The two looked at each other. They'd need to figure out a way to brief the Yamato and all concerned about the current year and situation, if the time traveling element was true. There would be a lot of explaining to do and a lot of details to hash out. But first, they would need to deal with the boss who just showed up. Mordakai's forces were flinging even more ordinance down range, this time to try and break up the fleets. The Dornies would only keep moving, shooting, and generally focused on taking the enemy down...

[Olwe]

Olwean Equestria

Olwe's newest territory was still getting used to its new name. It was the third name that the place had had. Most recently it had been known as The Hrulgin Empire. It had started out as a benevolent nation, a safe haven for the misunderstood minorities of Ponykind... the three least common types of Pony, even less well known than changelings and sea ponies. Equus sapiens carnivorus, the Hrulgin, were large flesh-eating ponies; Equus sapiens necrosii, the thestrals, could be seen by all Ponies but only by Humans who had watched someone die; and Equus sapiens ponyta were a flame-tailed fire elemental species descended from Pokémon.

It had all gone fairly well until Hemlock Sunbane took over. The Hrulgin Planeswalker had become an iron-fisted dictator brutally oppressing the rest of Ponykind in favor of his own people. This had lasted for centuries, until it came to the attention of those infamous interventionists, the Olweans. Olwe had financed the internal revolution against the Sunbane regime, then deployed troops (under the command of the Alicorn general Jesmin Firestorm, probably to add insult to injury) to assist in the overthrow of the Hrulgin government. The coup de grace had been provided by Jason Frost himself, who had engaged Sunbane in single combat and eventually killed him.

Onyx Thunder, the thestral who had led the revolution, had been put in charge by Jason. Her first crisis as regional governor of Olwe's newest territory would be the return of Hemlock Sunbane.

Imeriata

Jason crouched behind some barrels, which smelled strongly of fish, and peered over the top of them at the shady deal occurring on the docks below. "That's a Nicky all right," he said, his voice low so as not to give away his location.

Trasta knelt down next to him, while the rest of the group took up positions behind the Olwean rulers. "About forking time," she muttered. "I thought maybe they might've all left this region."

"Indeed," the Elf Planeswalker, Edhelwe, said.

Alex Reiff gestured to the vessels moored nearby. "That's his ship," he said. "More Nickies to torture on there, probably. Wonder why we haven't seen any others, though?" Scandera was supposed to be rife with Nicksyllvanians, at least in the timeframe these versions of the Olweans were from.

"My analysis of temporospatial patterns suggests that we are very likely in the future," Mandos interjected. "Apparently our campaign against the Nicksyllvanians was so successful that they were weakened to the point they could be conquered by the Imerians."

Jason grinned. "Good old Imeriata," he said. "Always getting underestimated. I bet the Nickies didn't know what hit them."

"So, Mandos," Edhelwe said. "Any idea, if there is no longer such a thing as Nicksyllvania, why an active duty Nicky officer in uniform is bribing an Imerian port official?"

"Further analysis of the space-time continuum suggests that it has been severely disrupted," Mandos said. "Possibly even irreparably damaged. Things are popping up where -- and when -- they shouldn't be everywhere."

"Well then," Trasta said, "let's get rid of this infestation here in Imeriata." She placed an ominously glowing stone in her slingshot, and launched it at the Nicky officer. When it struck his midsection it exploded violently, catapulting the top half of his body off the dock and into the water (where it was promptly devoured by sharks) while his legs stubbornly stood there in front of the screaming Imerian port official, who was clutching the ragged, bloody stump of his severed hand.

The Nicksyllvanian ship started firing in the direction of Trasta's shot, forcing the Olweans to scatter. Alex rose up from behind cover and made a swirling motion with his hands, and then the Nicky ship was at the mercy of a waterspout conjured by Olwe's top weather manipulator. Within minutes both the ship and the dock had been ripped to pieces, many of the survivors falling prey to sharks.

"Well, that's handled then," Jason said.

"Indeed," Edhelwe said.

"Unless they brought backup," Mandos pointed out. As if on cue, a fleet came out of the fog on the horizon. Cannons focused on what remained of the dock, and started firing at the Olweans. Missiles followed soon after.

Arcadia, West Olwe

Arcadia was one of the oldest duchies in West Olwe, and one of the most rural in the entire empire. So it was no surprise to Duke Anthony Devincenzi that he had been summoned to a farm. But what he found at that farm was surprising.

"I'm telling you, I've never seen anything like it," the farmer was saying. "Crops die sometimes, sometimes even in large numbers, but I ain't never seen 'em turn white."

"That's a double negative," Tony muttered absently while he examined the farmer's tomato plants. Not only were the tomatoes white, they were completely drained of all liquid... the juices had been sucked out.

"I ain't not never used no double negatives, neither," the farmer grumbled. Tony chose not to congratulate him on the impressive feat of a rare quintuple negative. "So what's wrong?" the farmer asked impatiently after a few more moments.

"You have a rabbit infestation," Tony finally said. "A vampire rabbit infestation."

Unknown Location

Mandos walked through the parted curtain and stood before something that resembled an overgrown Bellsprout. "I am the arm," it hissed, "and I sound like this."

Mandos was pretty sure that he was dreaming by this point, and had decided that the best course of action was to just go with it. "I am Mandos, and I sound like this," he replied.

"Doppelgänger," the arm said. "Bob! Bob!"

The man who had been there when Mandos first woke up, who Mandos noticed now only had one arm (could this tree-thing be a literal arm?), spoke up. "You... must return. Find... Dale Cooper."

That name sounded familiar to Mandos. Where had he heard it before? Suddenly, before he could make the connection, he was hurtling through space.

Dyste

There were many Olweans, from many different timeframes, who had made a big enough impact in Dyste that the Horn Of Valere would send a copy of them there. They made a rather impressive band... in addition to the usual suspects like Jason Frost, Jake Wansor and Trasta Greenleaf there was also Olwe himself... the legendary Elf-Lord for whom the nation had been named. They knew not why they had been summoned, but they knew where to go with that inquiry... Tyroth Blackfang's castle.

Dyste?

"To whom it may concern, you have aid incoming Dyste," Commander Bryan Stevens broadcast on an open channel while his brand new X-90 Yanma-class starfighter heeled over to starboard and started its descent toward the atmosphere, his own squadron and three others copying the maneuver. "Mark us as friendlies." Behind the fighters, a few capital ships moved in... the small fleet had been all Olwe could spare for the time being, but hopefully it would be enough.

The House Of Lore

Jason didn't have much time to look over the heroes summoned by the Horn Of Valere, but he did recognize himself among them. Great, he thought. Just what this clusterfuck needed was another Jason Frost. But then Alex Reiff called for him... the airship was ready. It was time to go. "Good luck to all of you," he said, then he teleported away.

[New Dornalia]

Hestia

"Get back to the surface, eh?"

Adrienne nodded, and paused for a few moments, stroking her chin before she kicked aside some debris and extended the ladder downwards, adding, "We go through here, go to the safehouse, I'll be able to find us a way out." The screaming seemed to get louder, and angrier, and the door would begin to really shake now.

Climbing the ladder and waiting for the Allaneans to enter, she warned with a half-joking tone, "Careful folks. It's a bit tight."

The vents themselves would be surprisingly easy to crawl around inside of. The party would find itself climbing about passageways that were cold, metallic, and generally quite uncomfortable--but not cramped. It was however dark, and Adrienne turned on a flashlight to light the way and pulled out a particularly large knife as well. The professor and his companion would be able to recognize some sort of scrawls and writings on the walls--a cavalcade of arrows, x's, cryptic symbols marked with English writing, and even the odd stop sign.

The journey itself would be comparatively uneventful either way, and the party would sure enough end up in what looked like an old storage room of some sort. A crude chalk map was on the wall, as was what looked like some sort of storage container hanging off a pipe in the ceiling and a small light and a cabinet of some sort powered by a jerryrigged setup that tapped into a Hestian Cable. The woman then said, "Feel free to take a breather. There's water, there's some rations--it's not long pig, I can assure you--and oh ya--some sort of machine which produces ammunition and shit on command. Stock up and lemme know when you're ready." She then said the last part, as she pushed a few buttons on the unit and produced a few stripper clips' worth of 7.62x54r, "I'll see about which way we'll need to take to get back up to the surface. Got any questions?"